


The One You Feed

by JCRGirl



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCRGirl/pseuds/JCRGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen becomes obsessed with a human working on one of his dad's construction crews. As he gets to know Jared, he'll soon discover that even though he's a monster of myth, there is real evil in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for nearmiss76 on LJ for the cilabib silent auction. I'm sure she thinks I have forgotten her, but I haven't! I will be posting a chapter a week. I hope this is everything that she wanted and more. Beta by the beautiful and wonderful Phoenix1966.

Jensen rolled to a stop in front of a large, two-story antebellum house and turned off the engine. This sleepy little corner of the world had seen a recent upswing in urbanites leaving the chaos of city life in lieu of quiet, country living. Most didn’t last long. Spotty internet and non-existent wifi coupled with a distinct lack of mainstream retail usually made them long for the creature comforts of broadband and Target within a year.

This home was for the decompression of a web designer from Charlotte and his Digital Marketing Executive wife. They’d purchased the derelict plantation house and were paying Jensen’s father’s construction company a small fortune to restore the “Gone with the Wind-esque” grandeur of the home – at least in theme. The materials being used in the remodel were more cost effective, modern reproductions – high-quality laminate flooring instead of hardwood and composite trim rather than real wood. The place had been in desperate need of some major TLC and, even in the beginning stages of the renovation, Jensen could tell it would be a beautiful home for the couple when it was finished.

He gave them six months before a Ryder truck was parked out front and they were running back to Charlotte.

Tilting his face skyward, his eyes slipped closed and he basked in the feel of the summer sun on his face. It had rained for the past two weeks and the first thing he did this morning when he woke up to warm, yellow rays was take the soft top off the Jeep. Grabbing the roll bar, he swung out and landed lightly on the ground with preternatural grace. He rounded to the back and lifted a stack of 1x4s out, easily slinging them up to his shoulder.

Weeds poked his feet as he crossed the unmanicured lawn, bees merrily buzzing and leafy boughs rustling in the gentle breeze. The air felt good, ruffled the humid heavy cotton of his tank top away from his sweaty skin.

He climbed the front stairs, eyes going from the flaking paint on the railing to the peeling paint on the massive ionic columns studding the porch. It hadn’t been the first time Craig decided to go on a weekend bender and show up the following Monday still reeking of cheap whisky and even cheaper perfume. There really wasn’t anything else to do but let him go. That put them short a painter on his job. Unfortunately, good painters were hard to come by and was the main reason Craig had been given so many chances. When he was sober, Craig was one of the best – fast, but meticulous. Jensen didn’t envy the search for a suitable replacement.

“You gonna just stand there and stare at the place or you gonna bring that lumber inside?”

Jensen scowled at Chris standing with his arms crossed over his chest, outlined by the massive front doorway. “Asshole,” he murmured lowly, barely refraining from making a rude hand gesture. You never knew when a client was making a surprise visit.

A broad grin lit Chris’ face in amusement, ears easily hearing the mumbled insult despite the distance. “Your Daddy know you use language like that?”

“Yeah,” Jensen snorted, “and he knows who taught it to me.” He shrugged his shoulder, jostling the wood. “Where do you want this stuff?”

“In here’s fine.” Jerking his head back toward the dark home, Chris turned on his heel and disappeared inside.

Jensen climbed the last few steps and followed his friend. He sighed in relief at the cool interior when he stepped into the foyer. The crew had all the windows open, monopolizing on the breeze, and the lights were off in an attempt to combat the sweltering temperature outside. Dust motes swirled on little eddies of air, dancing in the sunlight streaming in through the open panes. Sneezing violently as the particles tickled his sensitive nose, he dropped the stack of wood on the floor near the staircase.

“Hey! Watch it!” Chris scolded, glaring at the small dent in the drywall from the corner of one of the planks.

“Dorry.” Jensen rubbed his irritated and now running nose.

“I see our resident bull has finally arrived at the china shop.” Steve descended the stairs, a roll of blueprints peeking out from under his arm. Checking his watch, he smirked. “You know you could’ve just gotten that wood at the store. You didn’t have to go out and cut the trees yourself.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jensen snapped. “I was at the lake when Dad called.” He indicated his swim trunks and flip flops, rolling his palm over his itching nose.

Steve nudged him, holding out a tissue. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Jensen blew his nose. “How do you keep it from affecting you?” He balled up the tissue and alley-ooped it into a nearby trash container.

“Get used to it, I guess.” Chris shrugged.

Steve toed through a pile of saw dust on the floor. “Be happy we aren’t cutting wood down here.”

“True.” Jensen took a deep breath through his recently cleared passages.

“Better now, princess?” Chris joked.

“Yes, thank you.” Batting his eyelashes, Jensen layered his voice with mock politeness.

The wind changed, the remains of the previous owner’s curtains on the west windows stilled and those draping the north windows began to flutter. Beneath the smell of dust and construction, a new scent wafted to Jensen. It washed away the age and disuse clinging to his nose, replacing it with youth and vitality. “What’s that…” He tipped his head toward the back of the house, nostrils flaring with each inhale in hopes of getting more of that tantalizing smell – sweet fruit, salty sweat, green leaves and something else.

“What’s what?”

A large hand clapped down on his shoulder and the normally companionable gesture elicited a deep, throaty growl as Jensen’s baser instincts perceived a challenge.

Chris snatched back his hand and regarded his friend with alarmed eyes.

“Dude! Heel!” Steve barked, equally surprised by the aggressive reaction. He’d known Jensen since they were pups – tussling in the grass and playfully nipping at each other’s ears and tails – and never once in a lifetime of friendship had he heard him growl like that.

Jensen blinked. He’d scared his friends. Their fear was palpable in the air, pushing out everything else and granting him enough clarity to come to his senses.

Chris laughed nervously, rubbing the retracted hand along the back of his neck. “Anyone who doesn’t believe you could run the Pack someday should have seen that. It would’ve cleared up any doubts.”

“It’s not funny, Chris,” Steve snapped, stepping closer to the long-haired man. “What was that, Jen?”

“No clue.” Jensen rubbed the side of his nose in embarrassment, disturbed by his friend’s protective stance. Though, honestly, he couldn’t blame him. “I’m really sorry.”

Chris moved next to Steve, his expression telegraphing exactly how much he didn’t enjoy being treated as a damsel-in-distress. Steve stiffened, but relaxed when Christ put a reassuring hand on the small of his back.

From the back of the house they could hear the crew talking about lunch, the door slamming as they went out to eat their meal.

“Anyway,” Chris segued breezily. “What were you asking before you went all knothead on us, Jenny?”

Jensen glared at the name. He took a tentative sniff, hoping to keep his reaction in check. The scent was still there, still entrancing, but fainter, like the memory of a dream upon waking. “Nothing,” he shook his head, “wasn’t important.”

Steve eyed him warily. “Didn’t seem like nothing,” he mumbled lowly.

Chris’ gaze volleyed between the two men. He knew Jensen hadn’t meant it, but could understand Steve’s protectiveness. Deciding a change of subject was needed, he pulled the blueprints from under Steve’s arm and leaned them up against the wall. “Come on, Jen. You gotta see what this crazy woman decided to do in the bathroom.”

Following the younger man toward the stairs, he exchanged a look with Steve and shrugged.

 

*****

“She actually asked for bone white tile with charcoal grout?” Jensen traced the lines of black separating the stark tiles, left side of his upper lip curling in disgust.

“Yep.” Chris gave the bathroom floor a skeptical look.

“Where on Earth did she get that idea?” Jensen turned his head sideways still unsure if he liked it or not and hoping a different angle would help him decide.

“Pinterest,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jensen bit back a smile. Steve’s feelings for the website and its influences on his design concepts were clear in his tone.

“Hey, Newbie!” A voice floated in through the open window, raised above the general noise of the crew enjoying their lunch. “Where you going? Don’t you know that lunch hour means you get an hour?”

“Leave him alone, Brian.” Jensen recognized Mike, but the bite to the words was unusual.

Frowning, he turned his attention to his friends. “What’s that about?”

“The crew ribbing the new painter.” Chris stepped over to the window and peered down at the group.

“Oh! You’ve already found Craig’s replacement?” Jensen was shocked. Apparently, the search wasn’t going to be as labor intensive as he thought.

“Yeah,” Chris nodded, “started a couple of days ago.”

Steve gave the tile one last reproachful glare. “Heck of a guy, too.” His expression brightened. “Just as good as Craig without all the drama. And, unlike some, when he has downtime, he tries to help the other crews. Yesterday, he laid floor with Mike and Tom while the trim in the dining room dried.”

“Huh.” It was a common problem. While everyone their father hired was good at what they did, they often didn’t play well with each other.

“Let’s head down. He’s working in the kitchen and I gotta show you the light fixture she picked out for over the island.” He leaned in, but whispered loud enough to be easily heard. “It’s made entirely out of rolling pins.” He ushered Jensen toward the stairs with a wave of his hand.

Looking back over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow. “Rolling pins? Really?”

“It’s inspirational.” Chris winked at him.

“Fucking Pinterest,” Steve muttered, darkly.

Jensen stopped and laughed at his friends, holding onto the rail to maintain his balance. Seeing Steve’s glower, he let his chuckles die quickly on a few deep breaths. Suddenly, every muscle in his body went tense, every nerve on alert in an ears perked reaction. Sweet fruit, salty sweat, green leaves and that something elusive.

Unblinking, he licked his lips. “What _is_ that?” he breathed.

Taking in Jensen’s posture, both Steve and Chris stiffened defensively. “What’s what?” Sniffing the air, they tried to figure out what their friend was sensing.

“That scent.” Jensen leaned over the rail. “Can’t you smell it?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Steve took a long, deep inhale. “There’s like fifty million smells in this place.”

Jensen expanded his chest, drawing in as much as he could, mouth dropping open, wanting to taste the exquisiteness. “That!” Entranced, he slowly descended the stairs, letting the siren smell joyfully lead him to his death. It grew stronger as he navigated around ladders and supplies in the foyer, overwhelming his senses and blinding him to everything else including the two worried shadows trailing him.

He stopped in an archway at the end of the hall. Crouched beside the open pantry door on the other side of the room, carefully cutting in paint around the jamb was a young man clad in a t-shirt and cargo shorts. Jensen could see long, leanly muscled limbs and a strong back. Chestnut hair skirted his shirt collar and, when the boy turned to dip his brush in the can, his profile showed a pointed nose and defined cheekbones. “Who’s that?”

“That’s the new painter.”

Jensen’s heart raced. This boy was the origin of that smell. This close to the source it was strong, filling the room and bathing him in it, and for the first time Jensen understood the subtle underlying aroma.

His eyes went wide with realization. “He’s human?”

It wasn’t unheard of for humans to work on were-crews – weres and humans had been on equal footing longer than men and woman had been – but it was uncommon. Construction workers were typically strong personalities, on both sides of the spectrum, and pairing an alpha human type with Alpha wolves tended to cause friction.

“Yeah, he’s been working on Morgan’s crew since last year. JD’s getting set to retire and heard about Craig so he called and recommended the kid. Said he was the best painter he ever hired.” Chris ran his hand over the newly dried white enamel on the casing.

Jensen raised an impressed eyebrow. JD was usually stingy with praise so the kid must be pretty damn good. He took in the play of muscles as the boy manipulated the brush. A strong breeze swept through the kitchen, lifting the edges of the drop cloths on the floor and swaying the rolling pin eyesore hanging from the ceiling. The boy paused and dropped his chin to his chest, letting the air ruffle through the damp strands along his nape and cool the sweat slicking the underlying skin.

Jensen gripped the hems of his shorts, nails rasping against the material, as the scent slammed into him like a storm surge, flooding him with that irresistible smell, and he wanted nothing more than to drown in it.

“Jensen? You okay, man? You’re acting weird.”

He forced his eyes up and away. Steve was beside him, hands hovering in the space between them, apparently properly cautious after what had happened with Chris earlier. Jensen nodded stiffly, gaze drifting to the painter again before he jerked it back to his friends. “Fine,” he managed.

“You sure?” Chris’ blue eyes were filled with concern.

“Yeah.” Jensen shook his head and smiled. “Just feel a little off. Probably too much sun or got overheated or something.” He motioned toward the boy on the floor who seemed completely unaware of their presence or conversation. “You gonna introduce me?”

Chris watched him for another moment and Jensen let his smile go bright and cheesy. Snorting a laugh, Chris nodded. “Yeah.”

As they approached, Jensen could make out thin black wires snaking out from under the shaggy hair and over the kid’s shoulder, disappearing into his pocket. The barest trace of a melody surrounded him.

“Hey.” Steve gently touched the boy’s arm, causing him to jerk away and fall back on his ass. Hazel eyes stared up then dropped to the floorboards between splayed knees. The boy pulled an ancient looking MP3 player from his pocket, the case battered and display pixelated from abuse, and thumbed the silver power button, silencing the hint of music. He tugged on the black wires and a pair of earbuds dropped into his waiting hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris said, kindly. “If I worked around Brian so much, I’d find a way to drown him out, too.”

Hidden behind a fall of bangs, pink blossomed over a shy smile. “Was there something I could help you with?” The voice was quiet but held an unmistakable male timber. Jensen shivered.

“We wanted to introduce you to Walter’s son.” Steve clapped Jensen on the shoulder. “He’s around here a lot – dropping off supplies, sometimes lending a hand, but usually he’s just a general pain in the ass.”

Jensen twitched at the jab but didn’t respond, preoccupied with watching the boy stand up, long legs unfolding and body straightening to an impressive height.

“Jared, this is Jensen. Jensen, Jared.” Chris waved his hand from one to the other with the introduction.

The boy – Jared – rubbed his hands on his shorts, white paint streaking the material in the wake of each pass. A jerky motion shook bangs out of multi-colored eyes as a large hand filled the space between them. “Nice to meet you, Jensen.” The words were still soft and that shy smile was back, bringing with it a hint of dimples.

Jensen’s higher brain functions left – packed a bag and took a vacation – leaving his body to fend for itself. His arm drifted up, hand clasping the outstretched calloused one. A word, primal and possessive, rumbled to the forefront of his mind. _Mine_.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Jensen quietly passed his father, surrounded by papers at the kitchen table, and slipped out the back door. He turned his face up, finding the new moon despite its shadowed countenance in the night sky. Stripping out of his clothes and folding them, he carefully laid them on a patio chair. Rolling his shoulders, his mind surrendered to his body’s innate wisdom, let an eon of honed nature guide the ancient transformation.

He stretched his legs, toes spreading and claws extending, then shook out his coat. Hopping off the deck, he reveled in the ticklish feel of the lush grass against the sensitive pads of his feet. Loping to the treed forest line, he cast one last over his shoulder before he took off into the blackness.

He ran with no destination in mind, feet barely touching the ground as first front then back propelled him faster. Chris and Steve had offered to accompany him tonight, both still worried about his odd behavior earlier, but he’d declined. He just needed to get out, feel the wind blow through his fur and the earth give under his claws.

He lost himself in the soothing, lulling thuds of paws rhythmically meeting the ground. Mind clear, he slowed to a trot and looked around. This section of the forest wasn’t familiar, too manicured, too tamed, and he realized he’d run farther than he thought. He’d left the Pack’s land and was now in the state park where the humans came for recreation. He snuffled at the carefully maintained trails and information kiosks with their drawings of the indigenous wildlife, actually rolling his eyes at the passage next to the picture of a wolf that compared them to German Shepherds. He turned to make the return trip to the house, flipping his tail up at the insulting sign.

The breeze shifted, coming at him from the west and carrying with it Jared’s smell. It was mixed in with hundreds of other scents, animals and humans alike, but he easily picked it out of the din, probably could have with his nose muzzle deep in garbage. He followed it, leaving the relative safety of the forest and wandering into the edges of urban sprawl.

It led him to a potholed road in a rundown section of town. He picked his way down the street, the asphalt and street lights ending blocks back, careful of the bits of broken glass and jagged metal lining the hard packed dirt.

The houses were leftover tenements from Roosevelt’s alphabet programs that had saved the citizens of this area during the Great Depression and Jensen had honestly thought they’d been condemned when he was a pup. As he went further down the road, the houses became increasingly decrepit. Some had boarded windows and the distinct odor of ammonia. It wasn’t a stretch for him to guess what went on in there.

The scent took him further, to the last house on the dead-end road. The lights were out, but a bluish-white glow in the front room indicated someone was still awake. Padding silently onto the porch, he stepped over rotten boards and peeked in the front window. A man on the downhill side of forty was slumped on a dilapidated couch, a quarter full bottle of cheap liquor between his legs. Alcohol permeated the air and burned his nose. Sneezing, he jumped down off the porch and rounded the house. He stopped outside an open window and reared up onto his back legs, front paws on the windowsill.

Even in the waning moonlight, he could clearly see Jared curled up on a mattress on the floor, fast asleep. There wasn’t a fitted sheet and springs poked through the outer cover, what looked like dried blood staining the piping around the edge. A sheet was twisted around Jared’s lanky frame, his fingers fisted in the edge like he was afraid someone would take it away from him. Jensen wanted nothing more than to cross the space between them and curl around Jared, his nose nestled into the intimate curve of his neck and that scent filling his soul.

Jensen watched him sleep until his hind legs cramped and he had to drop back down on all fours. A car door slammed at the front of the house and Jensen took that as his hint to leave. He raised up again for one last look then slunk into the shadows. He made the trek home, thoughts of the alluring human monopolizing his mind.

 

*****

Every night Jensen found himself outside Jared’s window, digging his claws into the weathered wood of the sill to keep from jumping in the room and wrapping himself around him.

He avoided the job site, recognizing he might prove to be a disruption. His wolf seemed to be a tad possessive, as evidenced by his threatening behavior toward his two oldest friends. It might take exception to Jared’s co-workers being too close. His dad probably wouldn’t like it if Jensen ripped one of his employee’s throats out. Plus, Jensen was aware how creepy and predatory it was peeping in Jared’s window without his knowledge. He was half a step away from starring in a Dateline special; he was just missing Chris Hanson at his front door. He didn’t need to add daytime stalking to it.

His nighttime ventures _had_ garnered him valuable information. The older man was always there, in some varying state of drunkenness, and then there was another young man who generally came in late, smelling strongly of the cloying sweet scent of marijuana. Alcohol passed freely between the two and their nightly consumption alarmed even Jensen’s werewolf sensibilities. Their scents were vaguely reminiscent of Jared’s. Close enough for them to be a relative, but too dissimilar to be anything more than an uncle and cousin. Where Jared smelled sweet – ripened fruit on the vine, theirs was sour like the time he forgot towels in the washing machine for three days. It made his nose curl and just the memory of it lingered long after he’d left the house for the night.

He never witnessed any interactions between these men and Jared. Even though he kept his distance when Jared was awake, watched him from behind the abandoned carcass of an El Camino four doors down so he wouldn’t run the risk of being seen, his vision allowed him a clear view of the goings-on in the house through the curtainless windows. His boy seemed to stay mainly to his room, bent over cross-legged on the bed with a book cradled in his hands and earbuds dangling from his ears, only venturing out for quick trips to the bathroom. Jared was apparently an avid reader, often staying up until the wee hours of the morning turning page after page as he devoured the prose. Books were stacked around the room and based on the titles, his boy was smart. The collection spanned from classical literature to modern science fiction, tattered bindings and worn covers holding names like Dickens, Shakespeare and Stevenson in the same pile with Vonnegut, Salinger and Bradbury. Jared handled each well-loved novel as if it was sacred, the ink and paper more precious than silver and gold.

When Jared’s yawns became insistent and his tired eyes were knuckled red, then finally came Jensen’s favorite part of the night. Jared would tuck a frayed-edge scrap of paper between the pages to mark his spot (too respectful to dog-ear) and set the book down on an up-ended milk crate that served as a night table. He’d then stand and stretch before getting ready for bed. Jensen’s excitement for this specific time had little to do with Jared stripping down to his boxers, although he could appreciate that part. It was when Jared flicked off the bare, overhead bulb and slid into bed, his soft, sleepy sigh heralding the moment Jensen could creep closer, immerse himself in that scent and soak in sharing the same space. He would stay all night, a silent sentry, until the whippoorwills quieted down from the night and the wrens announced the dawning of a new day.

A week into his new nocturnal routine, he turned around as the sun’s rays first breached the horizon to find two stocky gray wolves lurking in the shadowed remains of a shed at the back corner of the property. There wasn’t a hint of anger in the brown and blue eyes that regarded him, just curiosity and maybe a bit of worry. Jensen dipped his head in acknowledgement but refused to keep it bowed. He wasn’t ashamed that he felt compelled to come here every night; that Jared’s scent called to him. Head held high, he trotted past them toward the forest, suppressing a sigh when they silently flanked him.

Jensen was surprised when days passed and his friends didn’t say anything even though they waited for him at the edge of the tree line every morning. Just like that first day, they’d all trudge back in the dawning light, separating to go to their homes once they were well into the pack lands, neither a human word nor lupine sound breaking the waking quiet. Coming home sandwiched between his oldest friends became as much a part of the routine as Jensen’s going every night and internally he was grateful for their seeming, if not unusual, acceptance.

If the silence on the subject of Jensen’s new obsession was circumspect, it was eclipsed two weeks later when Chris and Steve asked him to meet at a local buffet to grab dinner before a gig. The buffet was a large chain restaurant, one of the two in town, and offered obesity at a reasonable price. The locals usually frequented the mom and pop establishments that were rife in this area, places where they knew the kitchen and waitstaff well enough to tell you whose children or grandchildren had misbehaved in church on Sunday, but when they were feeling particularly gluttonous, the quarter-mile of heat lamped food under a sneeze guard seemed to be the preferred vice. It was well-known and widely respected among Jensen’s friends that he generally gave the place a pass when dining out was discussed – something about dozens of people possibly touching his food grated against him – but Chris and Steve had been adamant about their choice. Given the amount of times they’d capitulated to him, it was only fair for him to suck it up.

“So what’s this place got tonight that has y’all so excited to eat here?” Jensen pushed his tray toward the register, the glass of Pepsi poured by a rather unenthusiastic employee sloshing dangerously close to the lip, snorting at the near perfect sanitation rating posted in place of pride on the wall.

“You’ll see,” Chris smirked, carefully guiding the tray holding his and Steve’s drinks along the rails.

They paid an equally uncheerful cashier and Jensen made to head into the right hand dining room only to have Steve pull him back by the collar of his t-shirt.

“This way.” Steve jutted his thumb to the left where Jensen could see a gaggle of unsupervised, school aged children mobbing what had to be the dessert counter. Most of their small faces were covered in the remains of their first trip to that bar, varying colors of stickiness smeared across cheeks and fingers.

“Uh-uh. I’m not dodging the Nickelodeon crowd every time I get up.” Shaking his head vehemently, Jensen tried to continue forward, risking strangulation when Steve refused to give up the grip on his shirt.

“Yes, you are.” Steve stepped aside to let an elderly couple go by, tugging Jensen closer. “You know Chris won’t sit somewhere he can’t keep an eye on the truck. All of our equipment is in there,” he said lowly, eyes darting to the side to see who might overhear.

Jensen looked at Chris, who shrugged in a self-deprecating way, at peace with his own faults. Rolling his eyes, he sighed and turned to the left, dodging ice cream sheened and cotton candy coated children. He gave a wary glance at the steaming trays lined up for the hungry patrons trying to guess how long each had been sitting out.

“Over there.” Chris used his elbow to point at a table in the back corner near a large window that looked out on the parking lot.

Steve shot a jerky look over his shoulder before nodding and heading toward the vacant table. They placed their drinks on the table and stacked the empty trays to the side, nodding their thanks at the waitress that came by to introduce herself and make sure they had everything they needed.

Time passed quickly as they took trips to the buffet in rounds and Jensen endured good-natured ribbing of his picky eating. Laughing as Steve reminded them of the time when, as a pup, he had scampered off on his own to investigate a strange scent only to end up on the wrong end of a skunk, Jensen pushed back from the table with hands on his stomach. Even being choosy, he’d eaten too much and his belly felt full and uncomfortable.

“Did y’all save room for dessert?” The waitress materialized, gathering the plates. She smiled brightly at them, eyes lingering a little longer on Jensen. She leaned forward, intimating more into their space, and winked flirtingly. “Got some of the best goods in town. I’m sure you could find something you’ll like.”

Jensen groaned and rubbed soothing circles over his slightly distended middle. “I’m sure you do, sweetheart, but I don’t think you have anything along my tastes.”

The girl gave them an awkward smile and realizing a lost cause when she saw one quickly whisked away their dirty dishes.

“You sure about that, Jenny?” Steve had an odd expression on his face that Jensen couldn’t read.

“Yeah, Jen, I think something just came out of the back that is right up your alley.” Chris sat up and rested his elbows on the table.

Burping behind his fist, Jensen shook his head. “I don’t care what kind of pie it is, I’m about to bust. Why did you let me eat that third yeast roll?” he lamented, face tilted up to the ceiling. The air conditioner kicked on sending a cool, fresh breeze over them, circulating the air, heavily scented with a mixture of 50 different dishes and 75 different people.

“Trust me, this is better than pie,” Steve assured.

“Dude!” Jensen sat up affronted. “There is nothing better than pie!” he argued, pivoting around to see what had his friend spouting such nonsensical untruths. Flinging his arm over his chair back, he searched the dessert offerings, but didn’t see anything. Then he smelled it. Floating to him on the cleaner air and buried beneath the aroma of fresh baked bread was ripened fruit and green grass. He zeroed in on the lanky figure carrying a bowl of dough to one of the stainless steel stations behind the bar. His fingers tightened on the seat, the metal frame creaking under the pressure.

“Told you it was better than pie,” Steve gloated.

Jensen whipped around, his eyes slowly tracking back to where Jared was separating the dough into even balls. “How? When?”

Chris took a swig of his tea. “He started about a week ago. He works at the site until four then comes here from five to nine.”

A frown pulled the corner of Jensen’s mouth down. Jared was seventeen years old; why did he need to work two jobs? A girl came up to Jared and said something that made the younger man throw back his head and laugh.

Steve’s chair scraped over the worn, commercial carpeting. “I think I’m going to get a piece of cake.”

“Bring me back a slice of the carrot cake, babe?” Chris leaned his head back to look at his lover when Steve stopped behind his chair. “Please?” he added when Steve cocked an eyebrow at him.

Steve tugged lightly at Chris’ hair, smiling at him. “What about you, Jenny? You see something that piqued your interest?” When Jensen continued to stare in Jared’s direction, Steve slapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Loverboy. Try interacting with him when he’s conscious.”

Jensen eased to his feet and trailed after Steve to the bar, patting a small blond boy on the head when he bumped into him. He meandered down the counter, attempting to appear nonchalant as he perused the plated options, all the while keeping an eye on Jared as he moved the dough to the proofer. He passed a row of apple pie and then one of pecan, watching as Jared wiped off his hands on the apron cinched around his waist, flour and bits of dough streaking the pristine black. Lingering near a rainbow variety of Jell-O, the corner of his lips twitching up at the sight of Jared draped over the ice cream case to talk with a cute little girl, who stared through the glass with indecision.

Jared pointed to each placard, reciting the name, and waited with the patience of a saint as her ponytail swished back and forth as she rejected them all. Drawing out the name of the last one, obviously saving the best until the end, her eyes lit up at the mention of pink bubblegum. Jared’s smile was infectious as he dipped up a cone and Jensen’s felt himself reflecting the grin. With the utmost care, Jared passed the ice cream to her, chuckling quietly at her scampering off toward her waiting parents.

Jensen shifted closer. “I think you have an admirer.”

“Hmmm?” Pulling his distracted attention away from the little girl, Jared turned toward him. “Oh! Hey!” Blinking in recognition, his smile amped up to megawatt status. “Walter’s son, right? Jensen?”

“Yep.” Jensen leaned against the case, the artificially frigid air bleeding through the glass and chilling his arm, gooseflesh spreading from his shoulder to his wrist. “You know that dress is a lost cause now.” He looked over at the girl, her white eyelet dress spattered in fuchsia where her licking couldn’t keep up with the melting treat.

Taking in the sight, Jared scrunched his face up in guilt. “Didn’t think about that,” he said sheepishly. Gaze going over Jensen, he bit his bottom lip. “Looks like she’s not the only one.” He looked pointedly at a spot on Jensen’s side.

Confused, Jensen glanced down and found a streak of what appeared to be chocolate across the hip of his t-shirt. “Son of a…” Spying the blond boy that had bumped into him earlier, he glared at his fudge covered lips and hands. “This is my favorite shirt!”

Chucking, Jared nudged him with a damp cloth. “It’s not that bad. A good pre-treater can get almost anything out – mud, grass, blood…even chocolate.”

Jensen rubbed furiously at the stain. “Thanks, Heloise. I’ll try that.” Shaking his head at the muted brown stain, he handed the rag back to Jared.

“So, is there something else I can get you besides helpful cleaning tips?” Jared leaned forward, his forearms resting on the top of the case. “I think a little strawberry would complement the chocolate nicely.” He tapped the glass directly over a circular container nestled in one of the cooling slots.

 “Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Jensen snarked, eyes widening when Jared made a perfect Chewbacca impersonation. Tall, gorgeous, smells unbelievable and knows his classics...Jensen was so screwed.

 Jared blushed at Jensen’s surprised reaction and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, my inner geek leaked out.”

 

“No sweat. My inner geek was enjoying it.” Jensen smiled, the grin growing wider at Jared's raised eyebrow. “I was the one that quoted the movie.”

 

“True,” Jared chuckled, nodding his head. “Seriously, though. Did you want something?”

 

 _You_ , Jensen thought. “Umm,” he pretended to peruse the options, all the while keeping his attention on the young man behind the counter. “I think you talked me into it. I'll take a strawberry scoop.”

 

“Great!” Jared's face lit up like he was the one getting dessert. Leaning forward, he whispered, “It's my favorite.” Winking, he grabbed a cone and bent into the cold case to start scooping the ice cream.

 

A white fog puffed up from the cooler, ruffling Jared's hair slightly. The delectable scent wafted up on the cloud and Jensen breathed in deep, the sting of the Freon in his sensitive nose a worthy trade-off. He didn't realize he'd lifted onto his tiptoes for a better whiff until Jared stood and stumbled back at his closeness.

 

Embarrassed, Jensen recovered quickly. “Just wanted to make sure you didn't skimp out on me.”

 

“Nope,” Jared beamed brandishing the cone, topped with an overly large scoop of pink ice cream. “I got you covered.”

 

Reaching for the cone, Jensen's fingers brushed against Jared, his breath catching at the spark of something primal and raw that shot through him at that small contact. Jared pulled his hand back and flexed his fingers obviously feeling something as well. “You, uh,” Jensen cleared the huskiness that had crept into his voice and licked his suddenly dry lips. “You trying to suck up to the boss' son?”

 

Looking up from his hand, Jared's confused frown morphed into a mischievous smile. “Couldn't hurt, right?” he shrugged, wiping his palms on his apron.

 

Licking a pink rivulet before it could run over his hand, Jensen thought he caught a dark glimmer in Jared's eyes. “It takes more than ice cream to win me over.” He gave the young man his best smirk.

 

Pursing his lips, Jared gave a curt nod. “Noted. Next time, add sprinkles.”

 

There was the sound of a throat clearing and a deep voice from behind Jensen broke the moment. “Either ask him out or move it along, buddy.”

 

Jensen turned to see a large man wearing a trucker's cap and a scowl standing behind him. The newcomer was balancing two small plates of cake and a bowl of what appeared to be bread pudding in his hands, the front of his shirt showing signs that he'd used his sizable belly more than once to keep from losing any of the desserts.

 

“Sorry.” Jensen stepped out of the way and waved at Jared. “See you later, Jared.”

 

As he moved away he heard the man talking to Jared. “All right, Romeo. Give me three scoops of vanilla with sprinkles.” Jensen looked back over his shoulder in time to catch Jared's eye, both barely suppressing a smile.

 

He weaved his way back to the table to find both Steve and Chris done with their cake and watching him with shit-eating grins. “What?” he asked, defensively.

 

“Nothing.” Steve shook his head, looking entirely too pleased about life in general.

 

“You might want to grab a napkin there, brother.” Chris nudged the dispenser closer to Jensen, eyes cast pointedly at his right hand.

 

Jensen looked down to find his ice cream had melted, coating his hand and wrist in a pink, sticky mess. “Son of a...”

 

“You got to have it bad to not even notice that.” Steve watched Jensen toss the cone down on Chris' empty plate and frantically grab at the napkins.

 

Cleaning the majority of it off, Jensen jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the restrooms. “I've got to wash this shit off. While I'm in there, why don't you two use your napkins and wipe those smirks off your faces.”

 

On the way to the bathroom, he couldn't help the way his eyes were drawn to Jared behind the counter, talking to the girl who'd made him laugh before. He also couldn't help the way he kinda, maybe wanted to rip her pretty little heart out, either.

 

When he returned to the table, Steve and Chris were the picture of angelic innocence. “There's nothing going on,” he snapped.

 

“Didn't say there was,” Steve answered nonchalantly, flicking the bowl of his spoon so it danced across the tabletop.

 

Rolling his eyes, Jensen just shook his head, refusing to engage in their childishness. Moments passed between them in silence while the spoon clattered across the Formica. The quiet stretched on. Chris looked out the window at the van, Steve looked across the table at Jensen and Jensen looked anywhere that wasn't his two friends or Jared. The heavy air between them, coupled with the general din of the other diners and the metallic sound of the spoon, grated on Jensen's nerves just as his friends knew it would. And it irritated him more that they knew and were purposefully doing it. He wouldn't break first, wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they got to him. The spoon skittered across the table, rebounding off of Chris' plate to clang into Steve's glass. Unable to take it anymore, Jensen quickly reached out and snatched the utensil, pointedly putting it down.

 

“Look,” he hissed, sitting forward, “there is nothing going on and if there was, it's none of your goddamn business.”

 

A triumphant gleam flickered in their eyes and Jensen grit his teeth. Leaning to the side, he fished his wallet from his back pocket. He snatched a few crumpled bills from it and dropped them on the table.

 

Watching him, Steve held his hand out. “Don't be sore, Jen. We were just teasing.”

 

“Seriously,” Chris added, pulling his own wallet out to add to the tip, “We were just joking. You know, getting your goat.”

 

Jensen eyed Steve then Chris and sighed. “You always did know where I kept it.” He pressed his lips together and took in a long, measured breath, gaze flickering to the dessert counter where Jared was no longer visible then back to his friends. “What if it wasn't a joke?” he asked carefully. He didn't believe that his friends would bring him here, show Jared to him, just to be cruel.

 

“We would support you, no matter what,” Steve answered a little too quickly for Jensen to believe the two hadn't discussed this before. Face softening, Steve put his hand on Jensen's forearm. “As stupid as it sounds, we just really want you to be happy.”

 

Jensen regarded his friends, their shoulders unconsciously pressed together and the casually possessive hand Chris had on Steve's thigh. He'd witnessed every step of their relationship – starting when they were six and Chris arrived on the pack lands, pushing Steve in the dirt thinking to he needed to assert himself to be accepted, through the discovery of young love and eventually their mateship. He was glad they'd found their other half, but in the same respect he envied them. He wanted what they had, wanted to know the love of that one person who completed him, satisfied both human and wolf. Nodding, he licked his lips. “Thanks.”

 

“Great!” Chris drummed his hands on the table. “Now, that we've gotten the caring and sharing portion of the night over, we need to get moving if we're going to be set-up in time.”

 

Grabbing one last swig of their drinks and checking that the tip was enough, they made their way outside. The warm August air blanketed them in a veil of humidity when they stepped out of the air-conditioned interior causing sweat to bead along their napes and foreheads. A breeze swept through the parked cars, drying the perspiration and cooling their skin, offering a modicum of relief. Jensen tilted his head upward, eyes slipping closed as he enjoyed the gust, only to have it snap to the side. His steps faltered and his nostril flared as the smell of sweet fruit, green grass and something he'd begun to associate as being just Jared filled his senses.

 

At the very back of the parking lot, Jared stood in front of an old Ford Escort that had seen better days, white smoke billowing out from under the raised hood. Jared crossed his wrists against the edge of the hood and peered into the engine's depths. He rested his head against his hands and beat it against them a few times, shoulders slumping in defeat.

 

Jensen looked over at his friends, torn, body fidgeting in place.

 

“Go on, Loverboy.” Steve jutted his chin in Jared's direction. “Save your human in distress.”

 

Jensen eyed the van full of equipment that he'd promised to help set up, gaze drawn back to the lanky form staring forlornly at the smoking engine.

 

“Beat it,” Chris shoved him playfully. “You can make it up to us next time.”

 

Smiling his gratitude, Jensen jogged across the asphalt toward Jared. “Problems?”

 

Jared jerked upright, eyes wide and frightened until he realized it was Jensen. Ducking his head, he shook it with a resigned look. “You have no idea.”

 

“How about you tell me what's going on and we'll see if we can't solve a few of them for you.” Jensen moved over to the edge of the car, swiping a hand through the last vestiges of smoke emanating from the engine compartment. “Lucky for you, I'm pretty handy with a wrench.

 

Blowing out a breath, the force lifting his bangs away from his forehead, Jared considered Jensen for a minute. “It's been running rough for a while. It started okay, but I remembered I'd forgotten my sunglasses. I ran back inside and when I came out again, it was off and puffing like a chimney.”

 

Jensen nodded his acknowledgment and hummed thoughtfully as he checked a few things out, already fairly certain of what the issue was and even more certain Jared wouldn't like the news. “I hate to say this, but I think you've got a blown head gasket.”

 

Jared bit his lip, gaze roaming over the internal workings of his vehicle. “Sounds bad.”

 

“Not by itself, it isn't.” Jensen saw the glimmer of hope in Jared's eyes and knew his next words were going to extinguish it. “But, this looks like it's been going on for a while. Pretty sure coolant has leaked into the fuel cylinders.”

 

“And that's bad,” Jared inferred.

 

“Yeah, that's bad.” Standing, Jensen wiped his hands together.

 

“Expensive?”

 

“Not cheap. Even for a vehicle of this age, it can cost you anywhere upwards of $1500,” he paused, “provided it hasn’t caused damage to the engine.”

 

“Something tells me that cutting off and refusing to start again might hint at engine damage,” Jared ran a hand through his hair.

 

“More than likely.” Jensen wiped his hands on his jeans, not liking the downtrodden light in Jared’s expression.

 

“Best guess?”

 

“You’re going to need a complete rebuild.” Jensen rested his hip against the front fender of the car.

 

“Great!” Jared ground out, kicking the front tire in his frustration. Despair weighed down his eyelids and his bit his upper lip. “Amos is going to be so pissed.”

 

Jensen’s hand lifted of its own accord, wanting to offer comfort, but hovered in the air unsure of its welcome. Dropping back against his thigh, he grasped the hem of his jeans to keep it there. “Who’s Amos?”

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Eyes opening slowly, Jared shook his head. “I appreciate you taking a look at it. Guess I’ll call Jerry tomorrow and see if he’ll come pick it up for parts.”

 

“How are you getting home?”

 

Jared checked his watch and frowned. “I’ll go back inside until one of the guys gets off and see if I can catch a ride.”

 

“I could give you a ride,” Jensen offered, shrugging his shoulders acting like the answer wasn’t important.

 

Smiling slightly, Jared shook his head again. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

 

“You’re not,” Jensen argued. “I haven’t got anything better to do tonight.” He barely refrained from adding that nothing could be better than spending time with Jared.

 

“What about your friends? You didn’t have plans with them?”

 

Jensen’s heart warmed. Jared had been watching him, taken more notice than the small encounter they’d shared at the ice cream case. Maybe there was hope. “They had their own thing tonight.”

Jared hesitated, picking absently at his cuticle as he weighed his options. “If – if you're sure,” he finally hedged.

“Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't.” Jensen amped his smiled up and slammed the hood down on the ruined engine. “I'm over there.” He pointed across the lot.

“I'll, uh,” Jared licked his lips, “I'll meet you over there. Let me just grab my stuff.”

“Need help?”

Jared faltered for a moment, apparently at a loss for words. “No, I got it. Thanks.”

“Okay. Come on over when you're ready.” Jensen walked over to the Jeep and began tossing empty water bottles from the front seat into the back and trying to make his car look less like a rolling dumpster. He'd just pulled a wadded up fast food bag from under the front seat when Jared gently cleared his throat behind him. Jerking up, Jensen hit his head on the console and grit back a curse.

“Sorry.” Jared's face was screwed up in apology. Dipping his eyes to the ground, fringe of brown bangs falling over them, he murmured quietly, “You didn't have to go to any trouble.”

“No trouble,” he assured, still rubbing the tender spot on his head. “Shouldn’t have let it get this bad to begin with.” Stepping back, he held open the half door and made a grand sweeping motion. “Your chariot.”

Pink blossomed across the bridge of Jared’s nose and spread enticingly over his cheeks. “Thanks,” he mumbled, tucking his bag onto the floorboard before grabbing the roll bar and hefting himself into the passenger seat.

Slamming the door, Jensen slapped it twice. Rounding the front, he hopped inside and started the engine. Glancing from the bikini top and the windowless doors to Jared’s shaggy hair, he smirked. “Hope you don’t mind the windblown look.”

Laughing, Jared threw his head back. “Can’t be any worse than my normal look. With hair like mine, there is an essential piece of equipment you learn to carry with you at all times.” Reaching over and tugging a ball cap from the depths of his backpack, Jared snugged it over his head. He tucked a few wayward strands behind his ears and plucked his sunglasses from the side pocket of his bag. Slipping them on, he shot Jensen a wide grin. “Ready whenever you are.”

Jensen was momentarily stunned at how good, how right, Jared looked in his passenger seat. His alluring scent, dulled in the open space of the parking lot and clouded by the smell of the ruined engine, hit Jensen full force in the close proximity making his stomach tighten and his mouth water. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he shifted into reverse. “Let’s go, then.”

The conversation flowed easily between them as the tires ate up the miles to Jared’s house. Jensen had to be cautious, waiting for Jared’s directions of when to turn so the boy didn’t realize that he already knew where Jared lived. That would have definitely injected a little awkwardness in the banter when Jensen had to explain that he’d followed Jared’s scent to his house and had made a return trip every evening since to watch him sleep. Jared talked and laughed freely and Jensen marveled over how this animated boy next to him was the same introverted person who secluded himself away in his room every night. He soaked in every detail Jared’s chatter revealed while trying to tamp down on the need, want, desire to pull over and kiss him senseless.

Jared was going to be a senior this year, but unlike Jensen, who’d attend the high school on the Pack lands, Jared would be attending the one in town. Jared loved Pearl Jam, bar-b-que and basketball; preferred grape popsicles to orange, Bugs Bunny to Mickey Mouse and sweet tea to soda; and hated procedural cop shows, peas and rude people. Every hidden gem fleshed out the person that Jared was and only enhanced his appeal in Jensen’s eyes.

Fifteen too-short minutes later, Jared pointed to the side of the road near where the asphalt transitioned to dirt. “Right here is fine.”

Jensen pulled over and shifted the Jeep into neutral, looking around. They had to be over a mile from Jared’s house. The homes here were starting to show signs of the seediness that Jensen knew was evident closer to Jared’s, but still held an air of respectability. “This you?” Jensen nodded at the white house they were parked in front of.

“Close enough,” Jared answered, pulling his bag into his lap and reaching for the handle. “Thanks for the ride.”

Jensen’s heart stuttered at the thought of Jared getting out of the car. He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to Jared and it was over too quickly. “Hey,” he nearly shouted, grimacing when Jared flinched hard at the sound. “Sorry. I, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I was just wondering how you’ll get to work tomorrow.”

Licking his lips nervously, Jared eyed him carefully. “I’ll, um, I’ll have my cousin drop me off on his way…out.”

Jensen didn’t miss the way Jared remained guarded, body turned toward the door and fingers wrapped around the handle. He wasn’t cowering, but he was definitely on the defensive and Jensen felt a stab of guilt for startling him.

“Thanks, again.” Jared opened the door, bag in hand, pausing when Jensen stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Jared, wait.”

The younger man turned wide, wary eyes to him, gaze slowly tracking from Jensen’s face to the restraining hand and back again.

Jensen’s finger uncurled from the loose grip he had around the warm flesh, palm lingering for just a moment more to prolong the touch. “What about after work? I could come get you.” He hoped that he sounded less desperate than he felt.

Jared relaxed a little once Jensen had let him go, but the tension didn’t completely leave his muscles. Jensen only had a minute to wonder on it before Jared’s face split in a dazzling smile that pushed all thoughts of anything that didn’t have to do with kissing that wide perfect mouth from his mind.

“Nah, man,” Jared shook his head. “You’ve done enough just giving me a lift tonight. Couldn’t put you out again. Ryan will be back in town tomorrow. I can bum a ride home from him. Thanks again for the offer, though.”

“Ryan?” Jensen’s wolf, who’d been content and sated basking in Jared’s presence, perked its ears in interest.

“Um, yeah,” Jared blushed slightly, “my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Jensen mumbled, barely able to hear his own voice over the growling in his head, his wolf snarling at the thought of someone else with Jared.

Suddenly Jared looked unsure, a glimmer of the wariness from before shining through his faltering smile. “Is that…is that a problem?”

“What? No!”

“I just thought you’d be cool with it being friends with Steve and Chris and...”

“Jared, it’s fine, man.” Jared thought he was upset because Jared was gay. Jensen would have laughed if his mind wasn’t a jumble of mixed emotions – his shock, his wolf’s possessiveness and heart deep ache they both felt. “It’d be a little hypocritical if I had a problem with it.”

“Oh!” Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “Good then.” Looking out the windshield, in the direction Jensen knew Jared’s house lay, Jared tightened his fingers around the strap of his backpack. “Listen, I really gotta’ go. My uncle doesn’t like for me to be late and I’ve already gotta’ explain about the car so I’m just gonna…” He jerked his head toward the open car door.

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen grudgingly agreed, a shiver of jealousy still wriggling through him over this unknown Ryan. “Here.” He nudged Jared’s knee to the side and opened the glove box. Digging around the depths, rummaging past crumpled gas receipts and fast food napkins, Jensen pulled out a pen and one of the scrap pieces of paper. “In case you need me.” He scribbled his number on the paper and held it out to Jared, shrugging. “Beats walking and a helluva lot cheaper than a cab.”

Those hazel eyes studied him then long fingers slowly reached out and took the paper. “Thanks.” Standing, Jared tucked it in the front pocket of his jeans and shouldered his bag. “See you soon, Jensen.” He shut the door and stepped onto the curb.

Jensen smiled and nodded, giving a little salute. Putting the Jeep in gear, he muttered under his breath. “I’ll see you sooner than you think.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those people who pointed out that I posted a chapter out of order. I have now fixed it...I think. This is what should have been chapter three and what was posted as chapter 3 is now chapter 4. Hopefully this will make the new chapter 4 (the former chapter 3) make more sense. It's super short, sorry, but it was supposed to be the beginning of a chapter not one of its own! I know, I know, its confusing...welcome to my mind. Sorry again!

Jensen had felt bad for abandoning his friends after promising to help them set up so after leaving Jared on the sidewalk in front of a house that wasn’t his, Jensen headed over to the bar to hear Steve and Chris’ set. He’d neglected them over the last few weeks, their midnight runs waylaid by this inexplicable obsession he had over Jared. No one stopped him or questioned his age when he entered. The owner, Vincent, was a longtime friend of Jensen’s father and loved to tell stories of a younger Jensen chasing his tail. He cut a path through the throng of people already waiting for the show to start to grab a small stretch of wall to the right of the stage. Looking around it was an impressive number of people considering it was just then ten o’clock.

The duo was _on_ tonight, rocking the crowd into a frenzy one minute only to quiet things down with their soulful crooning the next. Jensen fell into the spell they were weaving, looking down in surprise to find that hours had passed. We waved to his friends as he made his way to the door, receiving a nod in return, and quickly drove back to the house. He was nervous, anxious though he couldn’t pinpoint why. His wolf was on edge, whining, nudging, prodding at the back of his mind. He felt like he’d cheated himself out of something important by staying at the bar so late, that for some reason he needed to get to Jared. Running at a full sprint, stretching his legs and lengthening his stride, Jensen was at Jared’s windowsill in half the time it normally took him.

The room was dark, the new moon a void in the night sky surrounded by a blanket of clouds that blacked out the stars, but Jensen’s sharp green eyes easily picked out the form on the mattress. Jared was hunched just like the first night Jensen came, but tonight there was a stiffness to the posture. The sleeping teen shifted slightly, rolling partway on his back only to whimper softly and return his side. The sounds tugged at Jensen, called to him. The pads of his paws landed softly on the water-stained hardwood of Jared’s bedroom and Jensen looking back over his shoulder at the open window not remembering crossing the threshold.

Jared’s eyes flew open and zeroed in on the closed bedroom door, blind to everything but the locked knob. Jensen’s breath and body froze until Jared was seemingly satisfied with the unmoving knob and his eyes fluttered shut. He waited, patience born of a long, predatory heritage, watched as Jared’s breathing lengthened and deepened. He crept forward toward the side of the bed, paws carefully stepping onto the sprung mattress one at a time to keep from jostling Jared awake. His breath ruffled long, silken hair as he took advantage of the opportunity to intimately acquaint himself with Jared smell, take it deep in his lungs and imprint it on his soul. He wrinkled his nose at the perfumed odor of cheap soap and the faint tang of salt that threatened to overpower the scent he sought.

Jared rolled to his stomach, groaning, the redistribution of his weight making Jensen topple and fall into Jared’s side. He went stock still, but other than another small moan Jared didn’t rouse. Quite the opposite, Jared seemed to relax into Jensen’s warmth. In increments, Jensen maneuvered until he was snuggled up behind the younger man, his form stretched out to outline Jared’s side with his head resting on Jared’s upper back. He sighed, a contentment washing over him like he’d never known.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering why chapter three seemed to skip from the end of chapter 2....well, its because there was a part that was missing at the beginning. If you go to chapter 3 now, you'll get the missing piece. This is the former chapter three now in chronological order. Sorry...But many thanks to those that pointed it out.
> 
> Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Whine

Scratch, scratch

Whimper

Scratch, scratch

Yip

Jensen inhaled deeply through his nose, face scrunched up at the irritating noise. His front was warm, the breeze coming in from the open window making the heat soothing instead of uncomfortable, and both man and wolf were loath to leave the relative peace they’d discovered.

Whimper

Scratch

Yip

Jensen inhaled again, this time registering the fading remains of cheap soap, sweet fruit, green grass and clean sweat. His arm was wrapped around something solid and comforting and tightened to pull it closer. He hummed in pleasure and his lips vibrated against a patch of skin that made them tingle.

Whine

His tongue darted out to lick his tickly lips and swiped across the portion of skin, the flavor exploding across his taste buds and making him crave more. The warmth shivered and Jensen’s hands rubbed soothing circles over it until it quieted. Something niggled at the back of his mind, something that had his heart rate kicking up a notch. The whine he heard this time came from inside his head and reason forced its way past the last vestiges of sleep.

 

His arms, his lips, his hands.

Jensen’s eyes snapped open. His surroundings were familiar but disorienting, the view backwards from his usual perspective from the window. He was still in bed with Jared, pressed against the man’s back like he had been when he fell asleep, but sometime during the night, he had shifted back into his human form. Jensen hadn’t unintentionally shifted since he was just a pup learning how to manage his willful wolf side. It wasn’t only that, Jensen had only ever unconsciously shifted from human to wolf, never wolf to human. His father often said that he spent half of Jensen’s childhood brushing back Jensen’s bangs to kiss his forehead good night only to have to scratch behind his furry ears to wish him good morning. His wolf was innate and primal, almost feral, seeded in the deepest most recesses of his mind and it didn’t give up control easily. Changing from wolf to human always required conscious thought; however, last night the wolf had apparently retreated of its own volition. He could feel it there, content but concerned, in the back of his thoughts. He shook his head and smiled down at the form lying beside him.

Jared was curled on his side, back nestled snugly to Jensen’s chest. One arm was tucked under his pillow, the other was awkwardly wrapped around his middle. Face relaxed in sleep, he looked younger, innocent, and Jensen had the strongest urge, like a prodding muzzle to the back, to gather him up and take him somewhere safe.

Whine

Scratch

Yip

Jensen looked over to see Chris’ head framed in the open window, his massive paws resting on the windowsill. Eyes round with worry, his body was a picture of nervousness. Seeing he’d finally caught Jensen’s attention, he shot a quick look over his shoulder before looking back to his friend and giving another anxious yip. Jensen’s gaze floated past the large wolf to see the first rays of dawn breaking the horizon.

They needed to go!

People in these parts might know that werewolves walked among them, but old prejudices still ran deep and it would only take an itchy trigger finger and a story about protection from rogue wolves to end up with all three of them laid out on The Ridge. Nodding his understanding to Chris, he leaned over to get one last whiff of Jared’s scent.

His brow furrowed as his awakened mind registered something off. There was another faint scent underlying Jared’s that the overly perfumed soap from the night before had masked. Now that the manufactured odor of spring rain was mellowing, Jensen smelled it. It was vaguely familiar and he wracked his brain trying to remember where he’d encountered it before, but it was hard to separate it from the lingering traces of the soap.

Seeing his friend was getting distracted, Chris yipped again, Steve echoing it from the yard behind him.

Carefully extracting himself from Jared’s bed, reluctantly leaving the sleeping boy, he slid to the floor and gave in to the animal that had been waiting patiently. Four padded paws landed on the parched ground outside Jared’s window and the three wolves silently made their way home.

 

The next day was the most bittersweet day of any school-aged kid’s year, the day before the start of school. Jensen spent it at the lake, whiling away the last few hours of summer with his friends and soaking up the bright rays. The girls were spread out on towels along the shore, using the last bit of idle freedom to deepen their already bronzed skin, and the guys were alternating between throwing a football back and forth and jumping off the rope swing someone had strung up at the beginning of the season into the water.

Jensen floated on Dani’s fuchsia raft, fingers lazily dragging through the cool water and longingly tingling for a different type of feel. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift on the lapping waves, imagined the heat of the August sunshine on his front was from a different source and the smell of grass held a hint of ripened fruit.

“Cowabunga!”

That was all the warning Jensen got before there was a splash and the wall of water hit, capsizing him. The world went pell-mell, the rush of water filling his ears and nose, before he broke the surface sputtering. Tom was a few feet away laughing as he shook dark hair from his eyes, droplets falling loose to pock the water surrounding him.

“Asshole!” Jensen growled, swiping his cupped hand across the water and forcing a surge of water in his friend’s direction.

Coughing as the unexpected splash went up his nose, Tom sent a retaliatory wave back. “What’s got your trunks in a twist?”

“Nothing,” he shot back, realizing belatedly that his answer was a little too sharp and a lot too quick.

Mischievous understanding sparkled in Tom’s eyes. “Ah, I see.”

“Ah, what?” Jensen batted at the inflatable irritably, trying to bring it closer. “There’s nothing to see.”

Smirking, Tom pursed his lips and nodded indulgently. “Okay, man. Whatever you say.”

Glaring, Jensen grabbed the float and waded toward the riverbank. Dropping the raft on a stack of others near the shoreline, he snatched the towel he’d left draped over a tree branch and began swiping the water from his arms and chest. Rubbing it over his hair to keep it from dripping, he looked out over the water at the sun making its descent in the western sky. It wouldn’t be long before Brother would start to rise to take his Sister’s place. Jared would be getting off soon. With school starting tomorrow, Jensen wouldn’t be able to stay at Jared’s as long as he had during the summer. Although weres didn’t require a lot of sleep, he still needed to get some in order to function during classes. If he was going to have to leave earlier then he would just have to get there earlier.

Draping the towel around his neck, he started gathering his things. He wanted to go home and take a shower before heading out.

“You leaving?” Milo asked, tucking a pencil behind his ear. He’d set up residence on a fallen log near the water’s edge just after lunch, content to be surrounded by their friends’ antics without actively participating in them. Out of all of Jensen’s friends, Milo was the quietest, the calming influence of the group.

“Yeah.” Jensen answered, smiling. “I think I’m going to head on out.” Stuffing the towel in his bag, he jutted his chin at the pad in Milo’s lap. “That’s really good,” he praised.

Graphite smudged fingers twitched nervously over the detailed and realistic image of the cattails growing a few feet away. “Thanks,” came the shy response.

Jensen shook his head. Milo was extremely talented and inexplicably self-conscious. Chris and Steve might be Jensen’s oldest and closest friends, but he held a special place in his heart for Milo.

As a pup, Milo’d been stricken suddenly with some still unidentified ailment. While Jensen and the others grew up worried about bedtimes and staying out of trouble, Milo grew up worried about breathing and staying out of the ICU. Jensen first met him while accompanying his father on a tour of the hospital. Looking in as they passed an open door, Jensen saw a boy his age, upper body tented behind clear plastic, all alone watching cartoons. He seemed so sad, like he needed a friend. Slipping away from the adults, Jensen walked in, introduced himself and asked if could watch, too. The boy managed a tired smile and a friendship was forged over an afternoon of Voltron. Thankfully, as mysteriously as the disease appeared, it disappeared. One evening Milo was sick, on the verge of dying, and the next morning he was well. Years of battling an illness that no one understood, undergoing one ineffectual treatment after another, gone overnight.

Milo said that if nothing else it did give him and his wolf a unique perspective, allowed them to “go placidly amid the noise and haste”. It was hard to get riled up over trivial things when you’d faced down much worse. His contemplative attitude and acquired reticence made some still think of the teen as that sickly pup, weak and in need of care, but Jensen believed they couldn’t be more wrong. Milo wasn’t weak. He’d fought a war that there were no weapons for, a war that had broken many of those that loved him, and come out victorious. Milo wasn’t weak, he was a godsdamn hero.

Checking his watch, Milo closed the sketch pad. “Do you mind giving me a lift back to town? I told Misha I’d stop by tonight and it doesn’t look like these guys will be winding down anytime soon.”

 

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Jensen chuckled nodding his head. “You know you don’t have to ask. Come on. I’ll drop you off at the hospital.”

 

Misha was a Healer at the hospital and had interned there. Werewolf Healers were not subjected to the same standards as human medical doctors, their training began in high school and was based more on hands-on experience than classroom instruction. While interning, studying Healers were encouraged to work in as many areas as they could to see which specialty was the best fit for them. Misha had already been through several departmental rotations when he arrived in Pediatrics. His first patient was Milo, at the hospital again for the thirty-second time in three years, and Misha found where he belonged. He oversaw every step of Milo’s care from there on out, reveled in every rally and mourned each setback right alongside him. He’d been the one holding Milo’s hand, weeping for the dying boy in the bed, when Milo woke up the morning of his miraculous recovery. He’d devoted a lot of his time and the hospital’s resources on researching the illness, but still hadn’t been able to discover what had caused or what had cured the disease. Each passing day that Misha didn’t find an answer, he felt he had failed the pack, failed the apprehensive parents keeping watchful eyes on their young. Milo’s illness might have been an isolated incident, but Misha was terrified that it wasn’t and the next child might not have the same fate. Milo made himself readily available. He answered questions, let them run tests, draw blood – whatever Misha asked for, Milo supplied. Milo was also there to comfort Misha when the test results or blood samples didn’t reveal any new information. Jensen wondered which his friend was going for tonight.

 

“Mish asked me to be his mate.”

 

Milo’s words were light and conversational, like he was remarking on the weather and not a life changing event. It snapped Jensen out of his thoughts and he jerked the steering wheel to the right in his surprise. They’d said their good-byes to everyone and were on the road that led back to town. Luckily they were still outside the city and the wheels bounced along the grassy shoulder for a few seconds before Jensen brought them safely to a stop.

 

“What?” Jensen was completely gobsmacked. He’d always known that Milo and Misha were close, but… “I didn’t…you…he…” Licking his lips, his eyes slid closed and he took a calming breath to focus his thoughts. “I didn’t know that you and he were courting.”

 

“We weren’t.” At Jensen’s confused look, he added, “Not in the traditional sense.” Milo picked at the hem of his board shorts. “I’ve known forever, but it was different for us.” He turned toward Jensen. “I was sick, Jen. You know that, you were there. As much as everyone tried to stay positive that I would get better, nobody knew for sure. If,” he looked down and fiddled with the drawstrings cinching his suit at the waist, “if we’d have mated and I died.” His lower lip trembled and a glassy sheen came to his eyes and Jensen felt his own watering in response. “I couldn’t do that to him. If we weren’t mated, there was a chance that he’d…” Milo choked on the rest of the sentence, emotion keeping him from giving voice to the rest of the thought.

 

Jensen understood anyway. Weres didn’t often survive the loss of their mates. The grief was too overwhelming, like losing a part of one’s soul, and often the surviving mate succumbed to the heartbreak within a month. The only exception was if the mated pair had children. It gave the surviving mate something to hold on to, to live for. Jensen knew his father would have followed his mother when she died unexpectedly if it hadn’t been for him. Even then, Walter had mourned the loss of his mate deeply. Had they mated, Milo was gambling with Misha’s life. Milo hoped if they didn’t then it would give him a chance to move on. Jensen thought it was admirable, but they were already so close it probably wouldn’t have mattered.

 

“And now?”

 

Milo inhaled sharply through his nose and nodded his head. “Yeah. Mish always said that if it didn’t come back in a year then he thought I was cured and it was two years yesterday so…” He shrugged, a smile spreading slowly across his lips.

 

“Wow,” Jensen breathed as it finally sunk in that Milo was going to be mated soon. “Well, congratulations! That’s really awesome, man. I’m really happy for you.”

 

“Thanks,” he chuckled.

 

Jensen checked the side view mirror and eased the Jeep back on the road. “So when’s the ceremony going to be?”

 

“Not sure. Probably should tell my folks before we pick a date.”

 

“You told me before you told your parents?”

 

“They were gone all weekend so I was going to tonight, but I had to tell someone.” Milo looked a little sheepish, but it couldn’t overwrite the overwhelming joy beaming from him.

 

“Your Mom is going to be over the moon.” Jensen turned left to head down Main Street.

 

Milo nodded. “Since I wouldn’t take her first choice,” he bumped Jensen’s shoulder, “she’ll at least be happy I chose her second favorite. You’ll probably hear her squealing all the way at your house.”

 

Jensen snorted a laugh. Florence had been trying to set Jensen and Milo up for years, but neither boy felt that way about the other much to her dismay. He turned into the hospital parking lot and stopped near the front door. He stared at the control panel. “Hey, Mi?”

 

“Yeah?” Milo was ready to get out, had texted Misha he was on his way and could see the other man waiting for him in the lobby.

 

“You said you knew forever. How?” His eyes never wavered from the odometer.

 

Milo was quiet long enough for Jensen to worry that he’d asked something too personal and Milo wouldn’t answer. A warm hand wrapped around his on the steering wheel and Jensen finally forced his eyes from the numbered displays.

 

Milo was looking at him kindly, a softer version of that knowing smile Tom had aimed at him earlier on his face. “You’ll know, Jensen. I can’t say how or why I knew, I just knew.”

 

“Should I be worried?”

 

Jensen’s eyes flicked past his friend to the man standing on the other side of the passenger door, hands on his hips, but blue eyes dancing with mirth.

 

“Mish,” Milo breathed.

 

Misha opened the door and Milo practically melted into him and in that moment Jensen wondered how he’d missed it, how he’d never seen it before. They were perfect together and the love shining between them was almost palpable. Jensen’s wolf whined longingly.

 

Milo shut the door and leaned in through the open window. “Whoever he is, Jen, if he’s the one, you’ll feel it. Trust me. Go with your instincts and you’ll get there.”

 

Jensen’s mouth opened to deny that there was any ‘him’, but before he could Milo winked and walked away, hand-in-hand with his soon-to-be mate.

 

*****

 

Jensen hurried home and showered. It was coming up on eight-thirty and he remembered that Chris said Jared worked until nine. Whistling as he came down the stairs, he detoured through the kitchen to grab an apple on his way out the door.

 

Walter was in his normal spot at the kitchen table, what looked like the pack’s budget report for the upcoming year spread out around him. Rubbing his tired eyes, he smiled. “Hey, son. Nice day?”

 

“Yeah. Goofed off, got some sun.” Jensen poked through the red and green apples in the bowl on the counter, looking for one that was just right. He was slightly picky about his fruit. “Hey, you’ll never guess. Misha and Milo are going to be mated.”

 

“ ‘Bout time.”

 

That wasn’t the response he’d expected. Jensen glanced over to see his father giving him that same stupid knowing smile that he’d seen on too many faces today. His eyes widened. “You knew! How did you know? I didn’t even know.”

 

“I’m Pack Alpha.” Walter replied simply with a slight shrug.

 

“So? I know they haven’t petitioned for the ceremony yet. Heck, Milo hasn’t even told his folks.”

 

Walter tried and failed to suppress a chuckle at his son’s agitation. Jensen hated being the last to know something. “Jensen, Milo and Misha are true mates.” Sighing as eyebrows raised over glass green eyes, Walter motioned to the kitchen chair opposite him. “You should have paid more attention in biology.”

 

Taking a seat, Jensen blushed and mumbled, “Mrs. Bruster had really flabby arms and when she lectured she gestured a lot. It was kinda hypnotizing.”

 

“The poor woman is in her seventies, she’s allowed to have arm flab. Anyway, back on subject.” Walter gathered the scattered documents and placed them in a pile, out of the way. “Mating is instinctual, inborn for wolves. A wolf can live without a mate, but it isn’t much of a life. A mate balances both the human and wolf parts of the soul, evens out the worst parts, completes us. One’s strengths will counter the other’s weakness.”

 

Jensen nodded, seeing his friends in his mind’s eye – Steve’s innate pacifism tempering Chris’ natural aggression and Tom’s steadiness calming Mike’s exuberance.

 

“True mates are that perfected. The bond is deeper, more intense. Normal mates are two separate souls melding to create a new whole. True mates are two halves of the same whole reunited.”

 

Jensen’s brow furrowed, “It sounds like the same thing. Two becoming one.”

 

Walter shook his head and leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and hands clasped. “Think of it this way. It’s the difference between two puzzle pieces fitting together to create a picture and a picture being torn in half.”

 

Jensen nodded slowly, eyes staring unseeingly at the apple in this hand, and licked his lips, processing. “Still doesn’t explain how you knew.”

 

“It is a gift bestowed upon Pack Alpha’s to sense true mates. True mates are precious, Jensen. Rare and to be protected. Typically the pair is destined for great things. Your grandfather used to say that the Brother and Sister sent true mates to a pack when it was in danger or in need. He believed that Pack Alpha was given this ability to keep families who might not approve of the mating from separating them. Only a Pack Alpha’s command can overrule a family’s decision.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Huh?” Walter looked at him in mock incredulity, an amused twinkle in his eye. “I impart ancient wisdom of our people and all I get is a ‘huh’. Pups these days.”

 

“Give me a minute, old man,” Jensen scowled playfully, “I’m still taking it all in. So Misha and Milo…how long have you known? I mean, they met when Mi was ten. Did you know then?”

 

Walter tilted his head to the side and shrugged.

 

“Really?” Jensen’s eyes went wide with surprise. “That long and you never said anything?”

 

“It wasn’t my place,” Walter sighed, shifting the stack of papers back in front of him. “They needed to come to it on their own.”

 

“No, I get it. I do.” A smirk danced on Jensen’s lips, threatening to overtake his face. “I just can’t believe the man who has blabbed my birthday presents ten years running was able to keep a secret that long.”

 

Walter looked up from the profit and loss statement in his hands, gaze fond as he regarded his only child. “Just because you have me wrapped around your finger doesn’t mean I’m incapable of keeping my mouth shut.” Kicking Jensen lightly under the table, he jerked his head toward the back door and picked up a balance sheet. “Go on. Get out of here and enjoy your last night before school starts, just not too late.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jensen smiled, taking in the sight of his father. Getting up he placed a hand on his father’s shoulder as he passed. “Don’t work too late, okay, Pops? Ms. Donna won’t like it if you have bags under your eyes.”

 

Walter rolled his eyes, snorting. “Have a good night, son.”

 

*****

 

Jensen parked in a far corner of the buffet’s parking lot and cut the engine. It was just past nine and he scanned the back of the restaurant for any sign of Jared. He only had to wait a few minutes until a metal door opened and a familiar shaggy haired boy emerged followed quickly by a shorter, broader young man. Jensen grit his teeth while his wolf gnashed his as the young man wrapped Jared in his arms and bustled him back toward a recent model Toyota. He closed his eyes and turned his face away when fingers tangled in long brown tresses and a solid body pressed the lanky form into the passenger door, completely missing the wince that flickered across Jared’s face.

 

It seemed that Ryan had made it back.

 

His eyes opened and narrowed at the sight of the stocky man hungrily kissing Jared, feasting from his lips like a dying man given a taste of ambrosia. A growl rumbled up his throat, a pale imitation of the one that filled his head, his wolf voicing its displeasure. In the dim light he could see Jared turn his face away, head thrown back against the car as his mouth parted in gasping breaths. An angry snarl echoed in his ears and Jensen viciously twisted the key in ignition, the engine coming to life with a rumble that rivaled Jensen’s own. He jerked the gearshift, roughly shoving the car into gear and gunning the accelerator. He sped away, his wolf an angry snarling presence in the back of his mind. He refused to look in the rear view mirror, forced himself to stare forward, and managed until he was half a block down the road, eyes drifting up and still able to see clearly the two men standing close together.

 

What keen eyes missed was a long-fingered hand pressing gently against a broad chest, a bowed head and a mumbled apology met with the exasperation of waning patience. Turning the corner, buildings blocked him from seeing Ryan throw his arms up in frustration, Jared’s stricken look as the other boy climbed into his car and the lone lanky figure left watching the retreating taillights.

 

Jensen drove home, mind whirling. The angry roar in his head had calmed and morphed into something sadder, mournful. Pulling up the long drive that led to his house, Jensen shook his head. This had to stop. Jared had someone, a boyfriend, and Jensen was just some strange creeper that peered into his windows at night. Parking in front of the house, Jensen cut the engine and stared out the windshield. He couldn’t go back to Jared’s. This had to stop.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written forever. My poor beta must think I've lost my mind. I don't know why it was never posted.

Jensen lasted two days before he was once again outside Jared’s window and honestly he felt it showed remarkable restraint on his part. He’d suffered through the yearning desire to see the other boy, the need an insect-like crawl under his skin and over his nerves that set both his human and wolf sides on edge. His short temper kept his friends at arms-length, only Milo risking and often being subjected to his irritation. He was uneasy, unsettled…something he’d never experienced in his self-assured life. 

Now, muzzle resting on the weather-rotted windowsill and taking in the sleeping form, he felt it all slip away. The tension, the restless anger washed away in a wave of calm. Without thinking, he vaulted the casing, soundlessly entering the room. Jared’s legs shifted on the bed, but he didn’t rouse. The motion stirred the air, scents wafting up from the bed linens: detergent, soap and green grass mixed with ripened fruit. Taking a deep breath, Jensen froze. There was another smell, barely detectable under the mask of artificial cleaning agents. It was blended with Jared’s, tainting it, spoiling the fruit and decaying the grass. Jensen’s lip curled up on the left side and he just contained the snarl. Jared had had sex…recently. The scent of his lover lingered even after a shower and clouded Jensen’s vision in a haze of red.

Ryan.

His wolf urged him to find the owner of the scent, claw and gnash and tear, eliminate the competition over this treasured prize, but he reminded it of the promise they made before coming tonight. He wasn’t going to interfere with Jared’s life, he just needed to see him, be in his general vicinity. A low, grudging growl was his only response and Jensen considered it a win. He made his way around the mattress and carefully climbed up behind the sleeping man, settling himself along the length of Jared’s body. He buried his nose in the long silken tresses, immersing himself in the scent he craved and ignoring the one he didn’t. Like before, Jared seemed to melt into him and Jensen closed his eyes, feeling whole and perfectly at peace.

Movement and a small whimper pulled him from his dreams hours later and he was shocked to find his human form spooned up behind Jared. He barely had time to wonder on why he suddenly had the control of a pup when Jared let out another small whine. Hesitant to lay hands on the boy and risk waking him, Jensen craned his neck to peer over Jared’s shoulder. Strong features were tight and now that Jensen was fully awake, he was able to detect the pungent tinge of fear and pain coloring Jared’s smell. The younger man mumbled something that Jensen didn’t catch, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Jared was having a nightmare.

Caution be damned, Jensen placed his hand on Jared’s bicep, making tender sweeps along the lean muscle and shushing him softly, but Jared refused to be soothed. His wolf made a plaintive noise, begging him to make it better. He tried to think of something to comfort the younger man, mind frantically suggesting and discarding ideas until it landed on a vague memory of his mother holding him after his grandfather died, rocking him gently and humming softly. 

His hand slid from Jared’s arm to his chest, rubbing light circles over his heart, and pressed his cheek against the broad shoulder in front of him then began to hum. It started out a little rough, his throat still clogged with sleep, but he soon fell into an easy rhythm. He didn’t have a particular song in mind, just an aimless melody, that seemed to work as Jared calmed and his body relaxed. It wasn’t until the rise and fall of his hand slowed that Jensen realized that his tuneless humming had morphed into a familiar song. It was one of his mother’s favorites and he hadn’t heard it in years, but he remembered every word. Soon, the consoling vibration had been replaced with whispered lyrics, breathed into the soft cotton under his lips.

In the still of the night…I held you, held you tight…in the still of the night.

****  
Jensen was a man of his word and, even though, he still visited Jared every night, climbed into his bed and held him while they slept, he didn’t interfere with his personal life. He wasn’t a saint, though. Going out, he left earlier and took more scenic routes, roads that passed close to the school in town, the buffet and the job site. Some days the inconvenience was rewarded and he’d catch a glimpse of Jared, other days he received an added bonus and was able to talk to the other boy.

During their infrequent conversations, Jensen’s belief that his boy was smart was confirmed and he learned that Jared was funny and kind-hearted. The glimpses he’d gotten of Jared, the person he was, in those five and ten minute spans didn’t sate his need to be around the other boy, but only stoked the desire. Jared was a truly remarkable person inside and out, neon in a pastel world, and that entranced Jensen more with every moment they spent together.

*****  
Jensen closed the book in his lap and looked over at the redhead on the bed next to him. Her features were relaxed, the two bright spots of red on the apples of her cheeks betraying the angelic peacefulness of her sleep by revealing the illness that had sapped her strength. He gently brushed the ringlets from her sweat-dampened forehead, smiling fondly as he adjusted the blanket covering her tiny form with his free hand.

“She loves it when you read to her. She’ll be upset that she fell asleep.”

Jensen jumped slightly at the unexpected voice behind him, his sensitive ears no match for the inherent light-footedness of a were. He turned to see Misha standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with arms crossed over his chest.

“She was exhausted. The tests this morning really took it out of her. I’ll make it up to her next Friday.” He leaned over and placed a feather-light kiss to her flushed cheek. “Sleep well, princess.”

As the Pack Alpha’s son, Jensen had obligations to the pack and the community at large. He helped out wherever he could and tried to do good works at every turn. People saw his weekly visits to the Pediatrics ward as just another part of him living up to his responsibility but Jensen never viewed it as a chore. He enjoyed coming, reading to the kids, playing video games with them, soothing them during and after tests. It was one of the few times that Jensen felt he made a difference, that he had a purpose.

Quietly setting the book on the bedside table, he moved toward the door and the waiting Healer. “Her fever is back.”

“The nurse is drawing up something now. We’d hoped that it was under control.” Misha stepped out into the hallway, giving Jensen space to exit the room.

Pulling the door shut, Jensen spared the ill girl one last look. “She’s getting better though, right? I mean, today she was able to sit up for a while.”

Misha nodded a look of pride glinting in his blue eyes. “She’s one heck of a fighter. You’d think she had some were blood in her. We get rid of this fever, I think she’ll be allowed to go home.”

“Good,” Jensen trailed his fingers over the pink foam crown on the door, pads ghosting over the purple, glittery “Emily”. Pulling his hand back, he turned toward the Healer. “So,” he exhaled, drawing the word out and smirking, “I guess I can officially say congratulations.” He clapped the other man on the back. “I’m really happy for the both of you.” 

“Hey, thanks man.” Misha’s eyes lit up and a broad smile spread across his face. “That means a lot coming from you. Mi thinks of you almost like a brother.”

“Well, then let me do my big brother duty and tell you, you hurt him and I’ll owe you a serious beat down.” Jensen’s smile went tight only half joking.

“Duly noted,” Misha nodded sharply, his jubilant expression falling into seriousness. “Just so you know, I would never…”

A trilling ring like an old telephone cut off the rest of Misha’s words. Jensen frowned, digging his cell phone out of his back pocket. The number didn’t ID, but was local so Jensen thumbed the screen to answer. “Hello?” he greeted a little grouchily, fully expecting a misdial or a solicitation.

“Um, Jensen?” The voice was quiet, almost obscured by the sound of a busy street in the background, and Jensen covered his free ear in the hopes of hearing better.

“Yeah. Who’s this?” He gestured with this elbow to let Misha know he was heading to the waiting room and received an understanding wave in return.

“It’s ah…it’s Jared. Is this a bad time?”

Jensen’s head jerked back a little in surprise. He’d given Jared the number so long ago and the other boy had never used it, lending Jensen to believe that it had been discarded. “No, this is fine,” he hurried to assure Jared. “Is everything alright?” He winced as the horn from a passing semi blared down the line, air brakes stuttering before releasing with a rattle of jarred cargo.

“Yeah, uh, no.” Jensen could see Jared in his mind’s eye running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I was wondering if you were busy.”

“I was just finishing something up.” Jensen walked past the waiting room and headed toward the hospital entrance, tugging his keys from his front pocket. “Why? Did you need something?”

“I kinda’ need a favor,” the grimace was clear in the admission, “but if you’ve got something going on or don’t want to its not a big deal, I completely understand, I could probably manage on my own, it’ll just take a while and...”

“Jared,” Jensen stopped the rambling, shaking his head at the fact that Jared had spoken more to him in that breathless run-on than the last four conversations they’d had. “I’m free. What is it that you need?”

“A ride?” The grimace was back again. “But seriously its okay if you don’t want to. I know this is an inconvenience and we really don’t know each other that well and I’ve got no right to call you for something like this.”

“Jared, take a breath.” Jensen climbed into his Jeep, slotting the key in the ignition. Jared’s exhale echoed across the line as he obeyed. “Now, tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

“The gas station at the corner of Memorial Highway and County Line Road.” 

Looking at the darkening clouds rolling in on the increasing breeze, Jensen started the engine with a quick twist of his wrist. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Hanging up, Jensen peered up through the open roof at the gathering storm clouds and hoped that the impending rain held off a little longer.

Fifteen minutes and a good dowsing later, Jensen pulled under the aluminum awning of the convenience store, sighing in relief as it sheltered him from the downpour. He was thoroughly soaked and when he looked over at the lanky boy leaning against the building he could see Jared was similarly drenched. 

He rolled to a stop and waited for Jared to get in, face twisting when the seat made a soggy sound under the boy’s weight.

“I’m so sorry, Jensen.” Jared’s eyes were clear green, upset and concerned. “I didn’t even think about the top being off the Jeep.” He clutched his bag to his chest, long fingers twisting the canvas. “I never would have asked…”

Jensen raised a hand. “It’s fine.” Jared’s eyebrows raised and he pointedly looked at the water steadily dripping from the sleeve of Jensen’s t-shirt. Rolling his eyes, Jensen conceded. “Okay, so I’m a little,” Jared’s eyebrows went further up his forehead and Jensen amended, “alright, a lot wet, but this is on my way home. It would’ve happened whether you called or not. Comes with owning a Jeep,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Jared eyed him, unconvinced, droplets of water falling onto the already sopping material of his shirt. He shoved his backpack onto the floorboard, the bag splashing as it settled.

“What were you doing out in this anyway?” Jensen asked, checking the rear view mirror to make sure the car turning in behind him had room to pass.

“I was out at the Carver house. I didn’t realize that the site had been shut down today and was on my way back when the sky opened up. I really appreciated you coming to get me. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk home in this.”

“Yeah, Chris decided to call today a wash. Plus, it was Friday so he figured y’all would like the long weekend. I’m surprised he didn’t call you. He’s usually good about,” Jensen frowned, something Jared said sinking in. “You were going to walk home? Jared, you live on the other side of town.”

“It’s not that far.” The protest was weak. Jared, seeming to realize it, looked down.

“Not that..? It’s gotta be ten miles. That would take you an hour and a half, two hours easy. You do that every day?”

“Not every day.” Jared shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes, one of the guys will be give me a lift if they’re headed my way.”

Seeing Jared fidget, Jensen decided to let it drop. “Still doesn’t explain why Chris didn’t call.” 

“He probably tried,” Jared shrugged. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

“Oh,” Jensen tried to keep the shock out of his voice. “I thought everyone had a cell these days. Unplugged’s pretty cool, though. We’re all a little too connected if you ask me.”

“What if I asked you to move it along, buddy?” a gruff voice said from behind Jensen.

Jensen turned to see a man standing beside the Jeep. Rolling down the window, Jensen noticed it was the man from the dessert bar at the buffet. The guy’s shoulders dropped and his face became the perfect picture of exasperation as he apparently remembered Jensen as well. 

“Oh for the love of … What are the odds?” The man grumbled irritably. “Look buddy, I get it.” He tugged the trucker’s cap from his head and swiped his hands over his balding pate. “He’s hot,” he gestured toward Jared, water spraying from the dripping hat across Jensen’s chest, “and you’re working it pretty hard, but you’re taking up prime real estate here so would you mind doing this somewhere else?”

Jensen looked up in the rear view mirror to see a line of cars, manned by impatient looking drivers, behind them. “Sorry,” he hastily apologized, shifting the gearstick into 1st gear. “We’re going.”

The guy nodded his thanks then peered around Jensen to look at Jared. “Dude, do me a favor and just go out with him already, will ya? He banged his fist against the door then walked back to the empty cab of a tow truck two cars behind them.

Embarrassed, Jensen ducked his head to look out at the rain still pounding against the metal overhang. “Looks like we’re getting wet. Ready?” He chanced a glance at Jared, hoping the flush on his cheeks had gone down.

“I’m really sorry.” Jared was thankfully staring at the rain with a resigned look.

“Jared?” Jensen waited until Jared looked at him. “Stop apologizing and hang on to your hat.” He popped the clutch and, waving jauntily at the man in the tow truck, maneuvered them out from under the metal overhang. Cold droplets assaulted them as they moved from beneath the protection and rolled to a stop at the exit of the gas station. Jensen hesitated for a fraction of a second then turned right, away from town. 

“Where are we going? I live the other way.” Jared hollered to be heard over the driving rain, laughing as they drove through a puddle on the side of the road that jostled them and sent a spray of mud over the front fender. 

“My house,” Jensen yelled back, head tilted up as Jared’s laugh proved contagious. “It’s closer.”

He stepped on the gas and urged the Jeep faster, the cold drips turning into stinging pelts with the increase in speed. He aimed for every rut and pothole just to hear Jared’s laugh with each waved splash. The forest’s edge, the boundary of the pack lands, was a welcome sight, the trees providing sporadic cover from the relentless storm. Thunder vibrated the air while lightning forked across the sky ionizing it, lending the world a slightly static feel. Several miles into the forest, off to the right and almost hidden from view, the trees parted to bracket a dirt driveway that ended at a modest two-story home. Jared barely had time to take in the wraparound porch, complete with rocking chairs, and the large warmly lit windows before they pulled around to the side and into the garage.

Entering the laundry room, Jensen toed off his sneakers and kicked them in the direction of the mat in the corner. “You can kick your shoes off over there.” He waved in the direction of his shoes before bending over to rummage in one of the cupboards opposite the washer and dryer. 

“Jensen, are you sure its okay that I’m here?” Jared set his bag down on top of the dryer and bent over to pull off his dripping shoes, carefully placing them on the mat next to Jensen’s haphazardly discarded ones.

“Yes, Jay. I promise.” Jensen pulled out two towels and, handing one to Jared, he wrapped the other around his neck. He kneed the door shut then moved to the cabinet to the left. “Let’s see if…” he trailed off as he squatted down to look at the contents of the cupboard. “Yes!” He crowed, “Ms. Donna is the best.” Without looking, he handed a pair of sweatpants over his shoulder. “These should hold you over until we can dry your clothes.” When Jared didn’t take them immediately, he flapped them impatiently until the other boy finally grabbed them. He draped another pair over his shoulder then stood holding two shirts in his hands. “Green or blue?” he asked, holding up a short-sleeved emerald t-shirt in his left hand and a long-sleeved navy one in his right.

“Uh,” Jared seemed at a loss for a moment, staring between the shirt and the sweatpants he held in his hands, “blue? Jensen, are you sure about this?”

Tossing the blue shirt at Jared, Jensen set his clothes on the washer so he could peel off the wet shirt he was wearing and begin toweling the water from his chest. “Yes, I’m sure. You’ll catch your death if you stay in those wet clothes.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Jared almost whispered, words stilted like he wasn’t truly paying attention to them. 

Jensen looked up to see the teen staring at him with an odd expression and frowned, wondering what was making Jared act so strangely. It was when he noticed the embarrassed tint to Jared’s cheeks and nose that it dawned on him. Nudity was a fact of life for weres, especially when you spent your formative years unable to control when and where you changed, and modesty was practically a foreign notion. He’d changed in front of people almost as much as he changed in private so it didn’t occur to him it might make Jared uncomfortable. Coughing slightly to break the tension, he picked up his shirt and turned his back to Jared to tug it over his head. “What did you mean?”

Even though feet separated them, Jensen could feel Jared relax at the small gesture. “I meant about me being here. I don’t want to get you in any trouble,” Jared explained, the sound of wet clothes being shucked creating a background noise. “If your dad’s going to be mad or something, I can go.” Dry cloth shifted and Jared’s voice was muffled for a moment before it became clear again. “The rain has got to be slowing down, I could probably walk now.”

As if on cue, thunder shook the window over the washer and dryer and the wind drove sheets of rain against the glass. Opening the lid on the washer, Jensen dropped his clothes into the tub. “Yeah, it’s really slowing down. Don’t worry about it. Nobody’s going to be in trouble. Except you if you suggest you walk home again.” He hadn’t heard Jared move in a while and took a chance to toss a teasing smile at the other boy.

Jared lowered his head, a small smile pulling up the corners of his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbled, meekly handing his clothes over when Jensen held out his hand for them. “I just don’t want to be any trouble.”

Twisting the knob to start the tub filling with water, Jensen added detergent then closed the lid. “You’re no trouble, Jay. Trust me and please stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Sorry.” Jared’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. 

Jensen shook his head. “We’ll work on it. Now, what do you say we find something to eat?”

“That’s okay,” Jared hastily replied, “I’m not really hungry.” As if the world was conspiring against him, Jared’s stomach chose that moment to growl noisily.

“Liar,” Jensen laughed.

“Okay, maybe I am a little. How about this? You let me make us something and I promise to try not to apologize so much. Deal?”

Jensen’s eyes lit up. “You can cook?” He couldn’t boil water without tragedy ensuing.

Jared smiled. “I get by.”

*****

Walter stepped into the laundry room, shaking the clinging raindrops from his jacket. Releasing his messenger bag, he shrugged off the wet raincoat and draped it over the gyrating washing machine to dry. He kicked off his shoes and, turning to place them on the mud mat, he stared at the pair of tattered sneakers neatly placed next to Jensen’s messily thrown ones.

The corners of his mouth tugging down as he contemplated the unfamiliar shoes, he jumped when the end of cycle alarm beeped on the washer. Chuckling and shaking his head at his skittishness, he set his hand on in machine and patted it. “Yeah, I’m a big bad wolf.” He rolled his eyes and dropped his boots before shouldering his bag again. Another frown was thrown at the well-used backpack on the dryer as he pulled the door to the main house open and came to a sudden halt.

Now he was clear of the smell of laundry detergent and wet shoes, the scent of sautéing onions and bacon hung heavy in the air and made his mouth instantly water. His feet followed his nose toward the kitchen, a glimmer of hope bubbling in his chest that Ms. Donna had finally enrolled in the cooking classes that he and Jensen always teased her about. She was a sweet woman, with a plethora of talents to her name, but cooking was not one of them. In the doorway of the kitchen, he stopped at the sight, his bag sliding from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow.

Jensen, his Jensen who was more hopelessly lost in a kitchen than poor Ms. Donna, was at the stove, poking timidly at a skillet of crisping strips of thick bacon with a set of tongs. Next to him was a tall, lanky boy, confidently pushing diced onion around an oiled skillet. On the counter beside the boy was a mound of diced tomatoes, mushrooms and, Walter squinted, zucchini? 

Jensen peered around the teen to eye the neat piles dubiously and Walter smiled to himself at what he knew was to come from his veggie-phobic son. “That’s a lot of vegetables, Jared. You do realize that I’m a werewolf, not a wererabbit, right?” His attention jumped back to his own skillet when the bacon popped and hissed in the hot fat. He tentatively moved a couple of pieces, warily watching as grease sputtered and splattered over the edge of the pan.

“Hence the bacon,” Jared, Walter now realized, pointed at the skillet of frying meat with his spatula. Jared set the utensil aside and with a slight of hand that the older man didn’t believe his son noticed reached for the knob in front of Jensen and turned the heat down on the burner. He then deftly scooped the pile of zucchini into his cupped hands. “Trust me, a few vegetables,” he added the zucchini to the onions, “never hurt any – Wait.” Jared stood still, hands hovering over the skillet, the last few pieces of zucchini that had stuck to his palm falling to join the rest, and cocked his head to the side in a movement that reminded Walter of a confused dog…or wolf. “Are there really wererabbits?”

Jensen chuckled, prodding the bacon with a little more confidence now that Jared’s temperature adjustment had stopped the menacing noises. “I’m not really sure.” Jensen’s mouth, one of the many things Walter knew he’d inherited from Evelyn, pursed in thought. “I know that Dad is friends with a werebear that lives over close to Asheville and that Uncle Jim went to school with a werepanther.”

Jared looked over dumfounded, his hands moving the contents of the skillet around to make sure they cooked evenly with practiced ease. “Bears and panthers?” He transferred the mushrooms and tomatoes next, the sizzling kicking up a notch at the added moisture.

“And wolves, oh my!” Jensen bumped his shoulder against Jared’s with a joking smile. There was a hint of something else in Jensen’s face, something that Walter had never seen before on his son and couldn’t quite identify. 

“But no Bugs?” Jared hip checked him playfully, passing a paper towel covered plate over with a nod of his head to indicate the almost done bacon. He picked up a bowl and yellow liquid poured over the vegetables in his pan.

“Nope, no Bugs Bunny,” Walter interjected, pushing himself off the jamb to enter the room. “The Law of Conservation of Matter.”

Both boys spun around at the sound of his voice. The tall boy fumbled the spatula in his hand, dropping it and spraying the floor and cabinet with bits of vegetable and uncooked egg. “I’m so sorry,” Jared immediately yelped, snatching a handful of paper towels from the roll on the counter. He dropped to his knees to begin mopping up the mess before either Walter or Jensen had a chance to offer to help. 

Jensen went to the sink to wet a towel and Walter didn’t miss how Jared’s eyes tracked him or didn’t stray too far from Walter’s hands. Jensen crouched down and covered Jared’s frantic hands, stilling them. “I’ve got it. Finish the eggs.”

Jared’s flinch was barely perceptible, Jensen didn’t seem to even register it, but Walter did. The young man shook his head, damp bangs swishing with the movement. “I’ll – I’ll do it. I’m really sorry, Jensen. I – I…”

“Jared, it’s okay. It happens.” Jensen moved his hand to Jared’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. This time instead of flinching, Jared seemed to calm at the contact, almost but not quite leaning into it. “Seriously,” Jensen added, nodding his head and gaze sincere. “I spilled an entire jug of orange juice in here just last week. I’ll clean this up because the eggs are starting to burn and the only way to ensure that they actually do is to let me cook them.”

Jared bit his lip, unsure, until his nostrils flared and his head whipped back to the stove. He stood quickly and agitated the eggs, the edges beginning to brown. He watched Jensen on the floor swiping the wet towel the last few times then directed his gaze at Walter. “I’m so sorry, Alpha Ackles.”

Walter was taken aback for a moment by the use of the honorific and beside him Jensen paused briefly as he stood. It was such a common thing to hear among the Pack, Walter was their leader and the position deserved respect, but humans weren’t normally versed in Pack politics so they rarely referred to him by his title. This young man was surprising. “Jared, Jensen is right. It was an accident.”

Jared nodded haltingly and returned his attention, if not his entire body, back to the eggs. His disbelief in Jensen and Walter’s assurances was clear in the tight line of his shoulders.

“So what is The Law of Conservation of whatever?” Jensen asked, pitching the paper towels in the garbage and rinsing the towel under the tap.

“Matter.” Walter supplied, proud of his son for the change of subject when Jared’s shoulders relaxed slightly. 

“Yeah, that.” Jensen tossed the towel on the counter and opened an overhead cabinet to retrieve three plates.

“Matter can be changed from one form to another, but the total mass remains constant.” Jared stated simply. His eyes widened and he peeked surreptitiously at Walter, biting his lip and awaiting a reaction.

“Exactly, Jared,” Walter smiled. “Good to know that someone pays attention in school. You see, Jensen, even creatures of legend are susceptible to the laws of physics. You might want to listen to Mrs. Bruster more instead of zoning out to her arm flab.”

Jared raised his eyebrows in amused question, lips curling over his teeth to hold in a laugh, but didn’t comment. 

Jensen set a bowl on the counter at Jared’s elbow and shifted out of the way to get silverware. “Just shows what you know. She teaches Biology,” he smirked, passing his father on the way to the table with forks and knives clutched in his hand. 

“Just shows that you didn’t pay attention in Physics either. Did that teacher have arm flab, too?” Walter needled his son, enjoying the blush that crept across his features when Jared set the bowl of eggs on the table with a grin.

“Moving on,” Jensen mumbled, putting napkins at each place setting. “What does this conservation law thing have to do with wererabbits?”

“It means,” Walter began only to be interrupted by the beep of the oven timer, thankful he hadn’t jumped like he did with the washing machine. Jensen would have pounced on the opportunity to goad him about it especially since he’d just embarrassed Jensen in front of his friend. “It means that we can only change into something of a similar size.” He waved his hand around. “Bears, panthers, wolves. The werecoyotes in Arizona and west Texas are the smallest I’ve heard people shifting into.”

“So, no rabbits.” Nodding, Jensen set the last knife down and crossed to the stove to get the plate of bacon.

“No rabbits.” Walter confirmed. 

“Pity,” Jared quipped blithely and Walter thought it sounded good in his voice, “I think Jensen would be adorable with a cotton tail.”

Walter laughed at Jensen’s scowl and the playful nudge Jared gave him. Sitting at his spot at the head of the table, he watched them, awed at the way they moved seamlessly around each other. There was no awkward bumping or tripping the way you’d expect of two people who barely knew each other and were in a different situation. It was like they knew where the other was without having to see them, like they’d been doing it their whole lives.

Jared carried over a tray of biscuits and placed them on the table. Apparently seeing Walter’s expression, and not understanding the cause behind it, he ducked his head nervously. “I – I hope this is okay with you. There wasn’t much to work with and,” he flicked a quick glance at Jensen then looked down at the tabletop, “Jensen said that breakfast was your favorite meal.”

“This is great, Jared. Thank you. Although, it was bad form for Jensen to make you cook for us. You’re our guest. We could have, well, not cooked anything like this,” he spread his hand out to indicate the well-laid meal, “or anything at all really, but we can sure order a mean pizza.”

“Yep,” Jensen grinned, taking his seat at the table and motioning for Jared to sit opposite him, “I’ve got the number memorized and everything.”

Pulling his chair out and sitting down, Jared shook his head. “It was the least I could do. Plus, we made a deal and I’m just upholding my end of it. That, and I like to cook.”

“Well, let’s dig in then,” Walter smiled, grabbing the bowl of eggs and spooning a heaping portion onto his plate. 

Conversation lulled for the first few minutes, the air filled with scraping forks and appreciative moans as the first helping disappeared and they went back for seconds.

“This is really good,” Jensen complimented between bites. 

“Even the vegetables?” Jared asked innocently.

“Yes, even the vegetables,” Jensen conceded around another forkful.

“I told you to trust me.” Jared popped a portion of strawberry jam covered biscuit into his mouth.

“Where did you learn to cook like this? I’ve literally burned microwave macaroni and cheese before.” Jensen bit into a strip of bacon, eyes closing as the flavor exploded on his tongue. “I gotta say, I nailed the bacon though.”

“Yes,” Jared agreed, taking a bite of his own, “you are a bacon master.” Shrugging, Jared wiped his mouth on his napkin and put it back in his lap. “My folks owned a restaurant in Raleigh. I spent almost every night there and they figured the best way to keep me out of trouble was to put me to work.”

“I knew your name sounded familiar,” Walter smacked the table, the relieved look of someone who’d figured out a problem that had plagued them for too long on his face. “Your parents owned Paddy’s.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

Walter chuckled at Jared’s astonishment. “Heard of it? We used to plan trips around ways to make dinner service there. When Jensen’s mother was pregnant with him, I once drove over there just because she was craving your Dad’s mushroom risotto.” He gestured at his son with his knife, “Jensen’s been there. Quite a few times, actually.”

Jensen looked up with a frown, jaw working around a bite as a fork laden with his next hovered mid-air between his plate and mouth. “Paddy’s?” He threw back into his memory, face lightening when he remembered. “Was that the place with the lobster macaroni and cheese?”

“Yep,” Jared beamed, “it was Mom’s specialty.”

“Oh moons,” Jensen’s eyes slid closed at the phantom taste, “that was awesome. Hands down my favorite food.”

“Mine, too.” Jared’s smile went from bright to fond, eyes nostalgic. He nudged the last few pieces of egg around his plate and nodded slightly.

Kicking him lightly under the table, Jensen smiled when hazel eyes raised to meet his. “Maybe next time you could make it.” 

Walter saw Jared hesitate for a second and his son’s ear turn pink, the implication that this could would happen again not lost on anybody, and he waited patiently to see how it would play out.

Jared ducked his head shyly. “I – I’d like that.”

The moment turned slightly awkward and Walter tried to keep his amusement at the two younger boys in check. Just when he felt that they’d suffered enough, the back door opened and an elderly woman entered, a bag of groceries in one arm and flapping the side of her coat to shake off the rain drops with the other.

“Sorry I’m late, boys. Give me a minute and I’ll…” She trailed off, taking in the remains of the meal that Jared had made. Impressed, she arched an eyebrow. “Looks like you fended well without me.”

“Here let me help you.” Jared hopped up, relieving her of the grocery bag then using his free hand to help her out of the dripping raincoat. Setting the loaded paper sack on the counter, he disappeared in the direction of the mud room to hang up the jacket. 

“What a sweet boy,” the woman gushed, looking after the young man. “I take it he’s the reason Jensen hasn’t set fire to the microwave yet.”

“It was an accident!” Jensen squawked.

“I know, dear.” She came over and patted his cheek. 

Jared returned with a towel and crouched down to mop up the water trail left in the sodden coat’s wake. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ll get it up.” She rounded the table, trying to take the towel from Jared. When he merely shook his head with a mumbled “It’s okay, ma’am”, she turned chiding eyes to Walter. “Walter, make him stop. He’s a guest.” Then she turned on Jensen. “Jensen, come over here and do that.”

Both men jumped up at her commands just in time to see Jared swipe the terrycloth over the floor for the last time. “Fat lot of good, you two are,” the woman grumbled giving them a glare that had them plopping back in their seats. Holding out a gnarled hand, her lined face morphed easily into a warm smile. “Donna Elisi.”

Gently taking the proffered hand in his, long fingers practically enveloping hers, Jared flashed his dimples. “Jared Padalecki. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Elisi.” 

“Please, call me Ms. Donna.”

“Here, have a seat,” Jared ushered her to the empty seat at the table. “Hungry?”

“I could stand a little something,” she conceded, eying the offerings. “Are those homemade biscuits?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jared set a plate in front of her and moved the biscuits closer to her end of the table.

“Oh, I think I’m going to like this one,” she mock whispered at Jensen and Walter, placing one of the biscuits on her plate. 

“Coffee, Ms. Donna?” Jared asked at the open cupboard that housed the mugs.

“You come sit down.” She patted Jared’s vacant seat. She gave Jensen a pointed glare. “Jensen, will get me my coffee.”

Walter hid his smirk behind his own coffee mug as Jared exchanged a look with Jensen and moved to his seat. He nearly choked on a sip at Ms. Donna’s sharp, “That coffee ain’t gonna get itself, boy.”

Ms. Donna bit into the biscuit and chewed happily. “Oh, I know I’m going to like this one,” she murmured more to herself than anyone else. She smiled sweetly at Jensen when he set a steaming cup of coffee at her elbow. 

Time passed and the food was slowly devoured among traded stories, heavy on the side of the Ackles and Ms. Donna. As the boys cleared the dishes, Ms. Donna gathered her things to leave. Bending close to Walter, she flicked a glance at the two boys standing at the kitchen sink. “It wouldn’t go awry for that boy to be around more. They’re good for each other.”

She patted Walter on the arm, gave him stern instructions to get some sleep, and left the way she came. Walter studied the teens, Jensen trying to snap Jared with a towel while Jared splashed him with dishwater in retaliation, and had to agree. They were good for each other.

He worked on some Pack business until the last plate slid into the drying rack. “Jared? Do you think we could talk for a minute?”

Uncertainty and fear passed over Jared’s face as he flitted his glance from Walter to Jensen before it settled on resignation. Ducking his head slightly like a chastised pup, Jared nodded with a soft, “Yes, sir.” 

Picking up on his friend’s unease, Jensen gifted his father with a confused frown and began to protest but Walter stopped him before he started with a lifted hand. “It’s fine, son. I just need a minute with Jared. Why don’t you go grab a shower while we talk?”

Reluctantly, Jensen left the room sparing several backward looks at Jared. His heavy footsteps sounded on the stair then the snick of the bathroom door.

“I swear sometimes it sounds like the entire pack’s going upstairs instead of a single wolf.” Walter shook his head in bemusement. “Have a seat, Jared.” He gestured toward one of the empty seats and stacked the papers he’d been reviewing to the other side.

Silently, Jared took the seat beside the pack Alpha, eyes downcast to his folded hands in his lap.

“Jared…”

“I’m sorry, Alpha. I shouldn’t have called Jensen, it was inappropriate. I – I’m just real sorry. Please don’t be upset with him. He was just being kind to me. Next time, I’ll…”

It was Walter’s turn to interrupt. “Next time, you’ll do exactly the same thing.”

Frightened hazel finally lifted, bangs shifting back and forth as Jared vehemently shook his head. “No, Alpha, I won’t. I swear. I should never have let him bring me here, but he seemed so sure it was okay. I promise I’ll leave him alone. He’s important and shouldn’t be seen around people like me. I won’t call him again. I…”

“Jared,” Walter leaned forward, hand outstretched to console the kid. He withdrew it quickly when the young man ever-so-slightly pulled away. “If you are in need, then call. If you can’t get Jensen, feel free to call me.” He nodded at the surprised expression. “Now,” he clapped his hands together, “what I wanted to speak with you about was the work you’re doing with Chris and Steve.”

The young boy tried to keep his face neutral, but Walter could see the insecurity creeping in. “Is there a problem, Alpha? Are you not happy with my work?”

“No, Jared, quite the opposite really,” Walter rushed to reassure. “Chris and Steve have had nothing but good things to say about your skills and your work ethic. They’re really impressed by you.” He scratched his beard, fingers rasping through the stubble as he thought about the best way to broach the subject. “As you know, that job is winding down and our next project is a new shopping center out close to the by-pass. We won’t need your services there until probably summertime.”

“I understand, sir.” Jared’s eyes were locked on the table, shifting back and forth, as he thought. “I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me. Not many people would have taken the chance.”

“No need to thank me, Jared. You’ve been a true asset to the jobsite.” Walter paused for a minute, watching Jared’s index finger make patterns on the table. It took several passes of the digit before Walter understood that Jared was cyphering. “Can I ask what you’ll do now that you won’t be at the jobsite? Do you have something else lined up? I think Chris mentioned you work at the buffet, too.”

“Yeah…yes, sir. I work there a couple hours a week. I don’t have anything planned yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something.” Jared’s brow furrowed as his finger moved faster, numbers traced and then retraced on the linen cloth.

“Would you consider still working for me, but in a slightly different capacity?” 

The finger stalled in the middle of what Walter believed was a three. “A different capacity?”

“You seem to really enjoy cooking and I was wondering if I could convince you to come here each day and prepare meals for us.” 

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You want to hire me to make dinner?” He asked slowly. 

“Dinner,” Walter confirmed, “and make sure there is something for lunch. It would only be during the week. On the weekends we would forage for ourselves.”

“What about Ms. Donna?”

“Jared,” Walter placed his hands on the table, his fingers steepled together. “Ms. Donna is a treasure and I thank the Brother and Sister every day that she’s in our lives, but, between you and me, Betty Crocker she isn’t,” he winked. “I’d match what you’re making as a painter and you’d have complete carte blanche on what you serve.”

He could see Jared pondering it, mentally poking at the idea from all angles in search of a catch, but he could also see the excitement that the boy was trying to hide.

“I do have a few stipulations, though.”

The excitement vanished as Jared believed he’d found his catch. 

“One, I insist that you complete your homework first. Two, as long as you don’t have transportation, you allow Jensen to pick you up from school each day and when you are finished here, take you where you need to go.” Jared opened his mouth and Walter leveled him with an even stare. “I’m not finished yet. And three, you join us for dinner every night.”

Disbelief hung heavy in the air, Jared looking absolutely gobsmacked. “Are you sure Jensen won’t mind having to ferry me around?”

“I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help.” Walter didn’t think it necessary to tell Jared, he was fairly certain Jensen would jump at the opportunity.

Jared sat quietly, pinching the tablecloth between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing the fabric. Walter waited patiently for him to work out whatever was going through his mind.

Jensen chose that moment to walk back in, hair dripping from what Walter knew had to have been the quickest shower his son had ever taken. He stuttered to a halt. “Did I miss something?”

“Nope,” Walter answered breezily. “Just waiting for Jared to give me an answer. So what do you think, Mr. Padalecki?”

Jared seemed to shake himself from his befuddled state. “Um, yes?”

“Good,” Walter gathered the stack of papers and stood. “I’m glad that’s settled. Is Monday okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes sir.”

“Great. I think I’ve done enough work for this week.” He shoved the papers into his bag. “Maybe, I’ll go see what’s on TV.” He stretched and with a smile bid them good night.

Jensen watched his father leave then turned back to his friend. “What was that about? Yes, what?”

“Your Dad just offered me a job cooking for y’all. I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” Jared still looked like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

Jensen smiled and thought he should make a special trip to Ferris’ bakery for the pie his Dad loved because the man was a genius.


End file.
